Project: Matrimony
by L100Meganium
Summary: Sequel to Project: Matchmakers! Miles struggles to find a way to propose to Phoenix. Meanwhile, Phoenix is convinced Miles will never want to get married. All the different suggestions from enthusiastic girls aren't helping (or are they?).
1. Espionage

**A/N:** Hello all you lovely people!

To those of you who have already read Project: Matchmakers- Welcome back! I hope you enjoy the continued fluff and shenanigans! I love you(nicorns)!  
To everyone who is a new reader: Hi there! I hope you're not driven off by the repeated references to the first story, haha. I love you guys as well!

* * *

Phoenix Wright was in love.

Not that he hadn't been for quite some time, but now it was different. After many long, torturous years of struggle and emotional anguish, after everything had fallen apart and he had somehow managed to patch it back together, after he had tried to deny the feelings over and over again, he finally had what he'd been seeking.

He rested his chin on his arms and watched Miles sleep.

The prosecutor's normally stern face was relaxed. The furrow between his brow had disappeared, and his lips were slightly parted. His bangs fell haphazardly across his forehead and cheeks, a far cry from their usual immaculate state. Phoenix reached over and brushed a strand of hair off of Miles' cheek, and the other man momentarily scrunched his nose up at the sensation before letting his face go slack again. It was so goddamn adorable.

For so long, he'd held himself back from thinking such things. Miles was a formidable figure, an intimidating presence in the courtroom and out of it. His history with Phoenix had led to a deep and abiding friendship, and their legal prowess made them fierce rivals in court, but Phoenix had never thought their friendly relationship would go anywhere further. Miles was not allowed to be adorable to him. He was not allowed to be attractive, or beautiful, or precious, or sexy, or any of the things that Phoenix now thought about him on a daily basis. He'd locked all those descriptors away and refused to acknowledge that they were there under the surface.

But now, thanks to a little Captain Morgan and a voicemail about unicorns, here he was: Miles Edgeworth, in all his pajama'd glory, right here in their bed. _Their_ bed!

Phoenix laid back on his arms, crossing them under his head as he stared at the ceiling. They'd only been living here for three weeks now, but he could already tell this would be a place he wouldn't be moving out of anytime soon. It was in a convenient location, it was spacious yet cozy, there was a pool nearby for the summers, and most of all, it contained the two most important people in the world to Phoenix. Sometimes he'd wake up convinced that this domestic bliss had just been a very long, freakishly-detailed dream, but then he would look over and see Miles there next to him, and it was like a small electric current buzzed through him from his head to his toes. It had been fantastic. Even if Miles seemed preoccupied with work or lost in his own thoughts sometimes, he always made time for Phoenix. He was still a little enigmatic sometimes, but that just made it more interesting and exciting, Phoenix thought.

He had just started to feel his eyes flutter closed, his vision fading out as he surrendered to the laziness the early morning induced in him, when he felt a sudden warmth on his arm. His eyes snapped open, and darted down to see Miles' hand on his shoulder. "Miles?" he said, uncertain.

"You're here," Miles breathed, sounding relieved. His voice was thick with sleep. "You're real."

"Yeah, I'm real," Phoenix responded softly, turning on his side and scooping Miles' hand into his own. "What's wrong? Bad dream?"

Reluctantly, Miles nodded against his pillow. "It's pathetic," he said with a sigh.

"No, no it's not," Phoenix told him, shuffling closer to him and laying his forehead against his partner's. "I still have a hard time believing it's real sometimes, too." He looked at Miles' tired, half-open gray eyes. "I'm here," he said. "I love you so much."

Despite being sleepy, Miles' cheeks managed to go pink. "I suppose only the real Phoenix Wright would say such embarrassing things," he mumbled.

"Miiiiiiles," Phoenix said, rolling his eyes. "That's the part where you're supposed to say, 'I love you too, Phoenix Wright; you're the light of my life!'"

"I love you too, Phoenix Wright; you're the light of my life," Miles repeated tonelessly.

"Eh, I'll take it," Phoenix shrugged, kissing Miles on the forehead. The other man nuzzled his head under Phoenix's chin, and Phoenix scooted even closer and brought one arm up to gently stroke his side, from his shoulder to his hip and back up again. He internally cursed the cold weather that necessitated them wearing shirts to bed—even though Miles' pajamas were silky and soft, his skin felt so much better. Maybe they should just get heavier blankets. Then they'd be able to wear as little to bed as they wanted.

"Phoenix," Miles sighed against his neck. Phoenix shuddered. His breath had been warm, but it made goosebumps erupt all down his arms and legs.

"Yeah, Miles?"

"Not that I'm not flattered, but I'd like to sleep a little longer."

For a moment, Phoenix had no idea what he was talking about. "O-oh!" he exclaimed when he realized. He wriggled back away from his partner, his cheeks blazing. "S-Sorry. It's... it's morning, and everything." God, it wasn't even like he'd been hard up lately... how embarrassing.

"'S fine," Miles replied, resettling his cheek against his pillow. "Maybe later."

"Wh-What?" Phoenix bleated, but from the way Miles' eyelashes were fluttering, he could tell the other man had already started to fall back asleep.

Yes indeed, Phoenix had never been happier in his life. But, he thought, as he turned over and adjusted his pillow to go back to sleep, there was still one step they hadn't taken. A step that Maya in particular had been quite keen that he and Miles take soon, and one that Miles had claimed more than once that he would never take. A step that Phoenix would have loved to take tomorrow if Miles would let him.

But he was hardly in a position to be greedy, right?

* * *

Not for the first time, Miles had woken up wondering if he was still dreaming. Luckily, Phoenix Wright had been there to assure him that this was reality (and when he wasn't reassuring him with words, he was reassuring him by snoring loudly and reminding Miles of his very real presence).

Unluckily, his workday started at 8 in the morning, and it was now 7 o'clock.

He sighed and threw back the covers on his side, swinging his legs out of bed. Wright stirred and lifted his head, blinking his eyes open blearily. "Time for work?" he mumbled. His hair was sticking out in spikes every which way instead of them all pointing towards the back like usual.

"Yes," Miles answered, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. "But that's no reason for you to get up. Go back to sleep."

"Nah, I haven't really slept much since we went back to sleep before," Phoenix said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He was wearing an ancient, bleach-stained Steel Samurai t-shirt Maya Fey had gotten him at a convention years ago, and it was unfair how good he looked in it. "Do you need anything before you go?" he asked, shoving back the covers with his feet. "Lunch? Phone charger? Some small bills?"

Miles gave him a wry half-smile over his shoulder as he made his way over to the walk-in closet. "I'm a grown man, Wright, not your teenage daughter. I can get my own lunch."

"Well gosh, maybe I just wanted to be romantic and make you lunch; you ever think about that?" he countered with a yawn. He rose out of bed as well, shivering from the sudden loss of the warm blankets.

"Thank you, but I think I'll just go across the street for lunch," Miles told him, and then carried his clothes with him into the bathroom. He might share a bed with Wright, and sure, there was no part of them that was a secret to each other anymore, but Miles still didn't feel comfortable getting undressed and dressed in front of him. It was one thing to undress for a purpose, like to take a shower or the like. It was another to undress because you were going to fumble on a different set of clothes. It was an undignified and awkward process, and Miles preferred it to be private. Phoenix never pressed the issue, though he was only too comfortable flinging his clothes on and off willy-nilly in Miles' presence himself (which Miles sometimes appreciated and other times was immensely embarrassed by).

"Hey, maybe I can join you for lunch?" came Phoenix's voice through the door as Miles was brushing his teeth. "You're going to the soup place, right?"

"It's a bistro," he said after he'd rinsed his mouth.

"Right, the soup place," Phoenix insisted, and Miles heard the teasing smile in his voice.

Miles sighed, but smiled. "I'll be there around two," he informed his partner, emerging from the bathroom fully dressed and immaculate in his usual elegant wine-red suit—complete with cravat, of course. "If you'd like to meet me there, I have no problem with it."

"'No problem with it'? Oh, such tender words," Phoenix sighed melodramatically, pretending to swoon.

The prosecutor stopped short on the way to the door. Wright may have been joking, but he had a point. They lived in the same place now. They shared a life together. They loved one another. Surely it wouldn't kill Miles to be a little more... emotionally sincere?

He made up his mind, and turned on his heel. Phoenix looked surprised at his approach, but waited to see what was to come rather than making a comment. Miles cupped Phoenix's face in his hands, tilted his head, and kissed him softly on the mouth. Phoenix sucked in a breath through his nose and leaned into him, his hands coming up to hold Miles' wrists. No matter how many times they kissed, Phoenix always reacted like it was their first. He did everything earnestly and whole-heartedly, including (or especially, rather) loving Miles. It was one of the many strange, inexplicable things about him that Miles wanted to spend forever trying to figure out. But of course, there was no guarantee that they had forever to spend.

Phoenix smiled at him when Miles pulled away. His blue eyes were swallowed up by his wide pupils. God, that expression made him want to throw the workday away and just stay here with him, but Miles was a professional and he could not skip out on work to... to canoodle with this defense attorney. "Wow," Phoenix breathed. Miles smirked. That was what he had said after their first kiss, too. "Not that I'm complaining," the other man continued, "but what brought that on?"

Miles released him and turned away again. "You deserve affection without having to ask for it," he admitted. He frowned at the carpet. "I'm sorry I'm so...closed-off, frequently."

"What? No you're not."

The prosecutor sighed. "The man I love asked to meet me for lunch and all I said was 'I don't have a problem with it.'"

Phoenix laid a hand on his shoulder, and Miles faced him again. "I've known you were like that for years," he said, "and if you suddenly changed, you wouldn't be the guy I fell in love with, so..." He shrugged, his mouth quirking up on one side. "Feel free to keep being prickly if you want to. I think it's cute. You're like a cat."

His frown became even more pronounced. "A cat?!" Miles wasn't sure he approved of this comparison.

"Yeah, like, they pretend they don't need you or care about you, but you know they do."

Miles grabbed his hands. "But... I _want_ to tell you that I care about you." Indeed, he had been trying to do just that since they'd been living together, but it seemed as if all he managed to do on a daily basis was say awkward things and offer lukewarm displays of affection which did not at all match the depth of his devotion towards the man.

Phoenix's cheeks went pink, because despite the fact that they were lovers in every sense of the word, he still seemed amazed every time Miles expressed sentiments of love to him. What a ridiculous man. "If you keep saying nice stuff to me, I'm just going to want to keep you here all day," Phoenix warned him.

"Well, sadly, that is not an option," said Miles. He kissed one of Phoenix's hands and then dropped both of them.

"One of these days I'll convince you to take a day off," the defense attorney vowed.

"I look forward to seeing you try," Miles challenged, grabbing his briefcase from beside the door.

"You do, huh?" Phoenix purred. He was attempting to sound smooth and alluring, but Miles knew from his still-slightly flushed cheeks that he was actually thrown off by Miles' candor.

"I do," he replied, opening the door to their room. He sent one more smile back at the defense attorney. "I love you, Phoenix."

Phoenix's face blushed a little deeper. "I-I love you too, Miles," he breathed. He sounded and looked wonderstruck. That was the expression Phoenix Wright deserved to be wearing all the time, Miles thought.

He hurried out the door before he could decide to skip work today after all.

* * *

The last words he'd said to him rang in his head all morning. _I do. I love you. I do. I love you._ It reminded him yet again of something he couldn't seem to get off his mind recently.

It had all started when he'd more or less expressed his intention to stay with Phoenix forever. That had been during a high-stress time during which they had both been worried sick about Trucy, and Miles had been desperate to show his support, but that didn't make what he'd said then any less true.

" _You—and Trucy as well—will never be alone. This I promise you,"_ he'd said. Phoenix had gone on to half-jokingly ask him if Miles had just asked him to move in with him or proposed to him. Miles had responded that Phoenix could interpret his words however he wanted.

Shortly after that, they had indeed ended up moving in together. But the other potential implication of Miles' promise had not been brought up again for some time.

Like most problems between Miles and Phoenix, this was Miles' fault. A year ago or so, they'd worked a case involving a wedding. Miles had never been a fan of the concept. You could only spend your entire career hearing "You work too hard; find yourself a nice girl and settle down" so many times before even hearing the word "marriage" made your eyes start twitching in irritation. Miles had always maintained that he had no plans to do any such thing. He just had never felt compelled to reveal the reason _why_ he had no plans to get married: he'd never had any interest in marrying _anyone._

Anyone except one man, that is.

Anyway, this particular wedding case _may_ have gotten him worked up to the point of shouting that he would never get married, while in the middle of courtroom proceedings. Phoenix had been right there in the room at the time, wearing an expression that Miles would describe as an " _oh boy, here we go again_ " expression, because Phoenix Wright always understood which things irritated Miles the most. Miles suspected it was this vehement proclamation that had led Phoenix to the erroneous conclusion that Miles had no interest in marriage. He had reacted to their friends' recent suggestions to get married with embarrassment and discomfort, glancing at Miles out of the corner of his eye with an almost apologetic expression. He seemed afraid that if the idea were brought up too many times in front of him, Miles would get fed up and storm out or something. Which was preposterous. But of course, Miles never told him so, because saying something like "Please do not be afraid to bring up marriage around me" to him would be altogether too revealing.

But maybe that was what he needed to do: Just lay it all out on the table. Maybe if Phoenix wouldn't bring up marriage (was too _afraid_ to because Miles was so damaged and easily upset and hard to read and altogether _impossible_ ), he, Miles, should be the one to do it.

And so he had come to the conclusion that he needed to find a way to propose to Phoenix Wright.

The disadvantage of being mostly uninterested in romance and physical intimacy for your entire life was that if you _did_ find a reason to be interested, you had already missed out on years of learning how to navigate such territory through pop culture and such. Thus, you were left to flounder through a relationship like a dog who has gotten its head stuck in a paper bag: wildly amusing to witness, but quite scary and humiliating for the individual in question (that had once happened to his golden retriever, Pess).

For the past several weeks, he'd been attempting to secretly study up on how to propose. He knew about the ring, of course; he wasn't completely oblivious to the world at large. But there were so many other questions: How should he phrase the proposal? Would Phoenix be upset that he wouldn't get to be the one to ask Miles? What setting were you supposed to propose in? How long were you supposed to be in a relationship before it was appropriate to ask someone to marry you? Should he ask Phoenix's daughter for her blessing? Well, at least he was mostly certain he knew what Trucy would say if he asked her. The question would most likely be met with squealing, followed by many hugs and excited giggling. The girl had already taken to calling him "Papa," after all, which always made Miles' heart glow with warmth, even if it made him a little nervous.

Speaking of Trucy, Miles was somewhat relieved it was a Saturday. He could go straight in to work without dropping Trucy off at school. Not that he minded spending time with Trucy—it was rather the opposite. It was just that the girl was... uncannily perceptive, especially with that bracelet Apollo Justice had given her for Christmas (the bracelet had even been his, Miles', suggestion. What cruel irony). She seemed to have caught on that Miles was preparing to do something big, and Miles was terrified that if he gave her any inkling of what that something was, she would simply be too excited to keep it a secret. Or maybe he was completely wrong and she'd think Miles was being too presumptuous to ask Phoenix to marry him. Miles was often bad at predicting people's reactions to things.

He sighed and walked a file over to his bookcase, knowing he needed to focus on work right now. But work and Wright often coincided, so he could hardly be found at fault for thinking about Wright at work. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

He made his way back over to his desk, and started on responding to e-mails. The fact that he had many fewer subordinates than he had used to due to the purging of the Prosecutor's Office was both a blessing and a curse. On the plus side, it meant that whoever still remained at the Office was trustworthy and hardworking, and Miles usually had a good working relationship with all of them (although Prosecutor Debeste still required quite a lot of supervision). On the negative end of things, it also meant that there were fewer people to handle all these cases, and they frequently needed more help from Miles. Thus, much of his day was often spent giving out advice to other prosecutors, in addition to handling his own investigations. He hardly ever got to stand in court himself anymore, except for high-profile cases and ones which he worked overseas. He missed that courtroom sometimes, especially on days when he felt liable to drown in paperwork.

He checked the pocket watch he'd gotten from Phoenix for Christmas (he already had a pocket watch, but Phoenix had gotten him one anyway, probably because he felt bad that his only other gift had been a stuffed unicorn, which was currently residing in the bottom drawer of his work desk). It was already after noon. Just a little more of this, and he could go across the street and meet Wright for lunch.

His cell phone vibrated on the desk, and he hastened to pick it up and press the talk button. "Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth."

"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth! What are you up to today?" said a familiar voice.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Kay, what have I told you about calling me during work hours?"

"Ummm... I don't remember exactly, but it was probably not a fun answer so I probably didn't pay attention."

"What a surprise," Miles deadpanned. "Well, what is it? Ordinarily you just harass me with text messages if you're bored." He decided to sort through one of the folders on his desk while he talked to her, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"Wellll," Kay drew out the word. "See, here's the thing. I probably shouldn't say anything to you, but I'm worried about her, so I felt like it would be the responsible thing to—"

"Kay. Context."

"Oh, right, sorry," she chuckled. "Pearl told me that Trucy's been texting her a lot about you and Mr. Wright."

Miles pulled several pages out of his folder, straightened them, and brought them to the top of the stack, paper-clipping them to the front. "And how is that any different from usual?" Those girls and several others (plus Apollo Justice), collectively called Project: Matchmakers, were known to gossip about the prosecutor and the defense attorney frequently. Miles preferred to not ask too many questions about it. It was an uncomfortable topic.

"Well, apparently Trucy's worried about you," Kay answered him.

He paused in the middle of paper-clipping another set of pages. "Worried?"

"Yeah. According to Pearl, Trucy says you seem antsy and anxious all the time, and whenever she tries to talk to you for more than casual conversation, you shut down and get really hard to read. Or, worse, you avoid her."

"I—!" Miles was indignant. "I would never _avoid_ her!"

A brief pause. "Mr. Edgeworth," the Great Thief said, sounding unconvinced, "the last time she asked you what was on your mind, you said 'I have to water the begonias' and made a run for it."

"So?" His voice had come out more defensive than he'd intended.

" _So,_ as far as I know, you don't have any flowers, let alone begonias."

"All right, fine, maybe there has been something on my mind recently," Miles conceded resentfully, "but it's nothing that concerns Trucy." He thought a moment. "Well," he reconsidered, "I suppose it does, a little. But it's nothing she needs to be worried about."

"Ugh, Mr. Edgeworth, don't be vague with me," Kay whined. "You know I can't resist the allure of a good unsolved mystery."

Miles rolled his eyes, though his friend couldn't see it. "Then stop prying."

"You know I can't do that," Kay responded flatly. "For whatever reason, you're making your daughter worry about you. That's not cool."

"M- _My_ daughter?" he repeated weakly. He had stopped being able to do any kind of work, his hand hovering pointlessly over the stack of papers.

"Yeah, your daughter, you know, the one that calls you 'Papa.' Don't play dumb, Mr. Edgeworth."

"I'm, I'm just not used to—"

"Then _get_ used to it!" she insisted. "Look, I won't try to get you to talk about whatever it is you're worried about. But you shouldn't shut Trucy out. Not just because she's your family now, but also because Trucy gets _really_ scary when she's made up her mind to get to the bottom of something. That girl is a force to be reckoned with."

Well, she wasn't wrong there. "You have a point." If he kept trying to skirt around the issue, Trucy would find a way to figure him out. Would she be angry that Miles had kept it from her? Probably, Miles thought. She'd been upset when she discovered Miles had lied to her about the relationship between himself and Phoenix, after all.

"That being said," Kay continued, "I know I'm just a kid to you or whatever, but if there's anything I can do to set you at ease, or anything you want to talk about... I'm here."

Could he?...

Miles' thoughts became a tangled mess of "what ifs" and "perhapses." It would feel so good to get this off his chest. But Kay was not exactly an expert at keeping secrets. Still, she'd managed to keep one particular secret for over ten years, even under duress. She had been known to eavesdrop and spy on people. But she was also one of his oldest friends, and one of the people he trusted the most. She had come through for him so many times.

Abruptly, he made up his mind.

"I take it from your silence that you're done talking," the Great Thief Yatagarasu sighed in a disappointed voice. "I'll let you g—"

"I want to ask Wright to marry me!" he blurted out.

A long silence followed.

Miles heard a long intake of breath, and so was able to pull the phone away from his ear in time to save himself from the deafening squeal that was currently issuing from its speakers. "Oh my gosh, that's so exciting!" she gushed when Miles had put the phone back up to his ear. "I knew it had to be something big if you wouldn't talk to Trucy about it! Can I be a bridesmaid? Wait, no, that's not right... uh, a groomsmaid? Oh, who cares; this is great!"

"Kay," he said sternly. "I haven't asked him yet."

"Psh, please," Kay snorted. "He's gonna say yes."

"Not if I never manage to ask him," said Miles miserably, deciding to give up on the work and flipping the folder closed. "I've been distant with Trucy because I was afraid she would realize my intentions and tell Wright."

"She _would_ flip out," Kay admitted. "Trucy's really good at keeping secrets when it counts, but I don't know if even she could keep one this big."

A sudden dread seized him. "B-But you can, can't you?" he asked desperately.

"Of course I can. I am a professional," she replied, her voice smug. "But if you think this is the last we're talking about this, you have got another thing coming."

He sighed again, turning in his chair to look out the window and massaging the spot between his eyes. "I figured as much."

"So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" he repeated blankly.

"The proposal plan, silly! A fireworks show? Skywriting? A string quartet and a hundred roses?"

"I...what?"

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Edgeworth. Don't tell me you haven't thought about how you're going to propose to him!"

"I—don't I just have to get down on one knee and ask? At... dinner, or something?"

"Uh, yeah, if you want to be _boring!_ " she said dismissively. "Everybody dreams of getting proposed to in a super-romantic way. Do you want to disappoint the love of your life?!"

"N-no," he answered feebly.

"Then you'd better start planning something _big!_ " she yelled. She had inexplicably taken on the manner of an overzealous personal trainer. Miles half-expected her to demand that he drop and give her fifty.

"Is that really necessary? I mean, such grandiose gestures aren't really—"

"Mr. Edgeworth," Kay cut him off dramatically. "I have been waiting for this my whole life."

" _You've_ been waiting for it?"

"The chance to plan the perfect proposal... it's a dream come true!" Miles suspected she had stopped listening to him. "We've got to make this one for the history books. We've got to absolutely knock his socks off."

"Your plural pronoun is making me nervous—"

"We've got to show him how much you really love him! How sincere you are about your wish to spend the rest of your life with him!" Well, he agreed with her there, anyway. "We've got to make him an offer he can't refuse!"

"What?"

"Oh, you know what I mean," she said. He didn't. "Look, Phoenix Wright deserves the most magical proposal of all time, wouldn't you say?"

"I..." He turned back to his desk and rested his forehead in his hand. "Yes... he does..."

"So I would like to help you make that magic happen, if you'll let me."

He let out a resigned sigh, feeling dread trickle down through his lungs again. "I don't have a choice here, do I?"

"Of course you do," she assured him. "If you told me right now, _'Kay, old bean, I must insist that you cease your daft nattering and leave me to my solitary contemplation and teacups'_ —"

"I don't talk like that."

"—then I would hang up the phone right now and never bother you about this again." That sounded good to Miles, frankly. "But."

He raised his eyebrows. "But?"

"But," she repeated. "You wouldn't have told me if you weren't feeling uncertain about it." Damn. She knew him too well. "So I'm thinking you probably need all the help you can get. Am I right?"

He really hated to encourage that sly, knowing tone of hers, but he couldn't deny the allegation. "You are," he mumbled.

"Hehe, I knew it," she giggled, because for some reason all of Miles' most trusted friends and associates were also all exceedingly frustrating. "Okay then, I'll give you a piece of advice: find out his ring size in advance. Actually, maybe I can help you with that."

"Wouldn't it be better to simply go with him to pick it out?" Really, he'd intended to ask the question first and worry about the ring later. How was he supposed to find out something like a man's ring size without being incredibly obvious?

"What? No! It's got to be perfectly sized by the time you open the box on bended knee!" she retorted indignantly.

"All right, calm down," he told her. "Fine. If you and your other 'operatives' want to make it your mission to find out Phoenix Wright's ring size, be my guest. But do not breathe a _word_ of this conversation to them, do you hear me?"

"Are you kidding? If I said 'do any of you know Mr. Wright's ring size?' the jig would be up immediately," Kay pointed out. "No, this is going to be a solo mission."

"Please do not stalk him for weeks. Again."

"Relax; I'll only use my most scrupulous of information-gathering methods," she reassured him, but her nonchalant tone did not inspire much confidence.

"Fine," he said, wanting to let the topic drop. He glanced at his watch again, and found the perfect reason to escape. "Anyway, thank you for... your support... but I'm afraid I must take my leave."

"Oh? Going to have a spot of tea?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. I'm meeting Wright at the bistro for lunch."

"Oooooh," she sang. Miles covered his face with his free hand again. "All right, enjoy your lunch date, Mr. Edgeworth. I'll call you later if I find any information on _P's_ ring size."

The prosecutor felt his cheeks blaze in a blush at her reference to what he'd "codenamed" Phoenix in all his old, embarrassingly sappy journal entries. "Very well," he bit out. "Goodbye for now, Kay."

"Bye!" she said sweetly. The phone clicked off.

Miles sat there a moment, listening to the silence, wondering if he'd made a huge mistake.

* * *

"Hey there," Phoenix greeted him with a smile when he sat down at the table. The bistro was filled with people as usual, but it always managed to maintain a calm and quiet atmosphere that Miles found relaxing. What Miles did not find relaxing was seeing the alarmingly brilliant smile on Phoenix's face right after he'd just discussed plans to propose to him. Somehow, admitting his intentions out loud to someone else made it ten times more frightening and real. He suddenly felt short of breath.

"Y-Yes," he responded stupidly, sitting down in his chair in one stiff movement. His eyes were roving around the room nervously, and he grabbed the menu just to have something to put in his hands, because he was afraid Wright would see them shaking. It had been all well and good to think privately to himself that he'd like to marry Phoenix, but now that someone _knew_ he planned to ask him...

Phoenix tilted his head a little, his mouth turning down in a slight frown. "What's up? You look like a kid who just found out what hot dogs are made of."

Miles blinked. "And what exactly does that look like?"

He shrugged. "Horrified, nauseous, and sad all at once."

"Ah." Miles nodded slowly, staring at the table rather than at Phoenix. "Yes..." It was an alarmingly appropriate comparison, in that case.

"Did... did something happen at work?" Wright probed. His eyebrows had angled up in concern.

Miles almost laughed. _You could say that,_ he thought. But instead he just shook his head. "No, I'm... I'm just hungry, and a bit tired."

"Oh." Wright sat back in his chair, looking satisfied with the answer. "Well, we can fix one of those problems here, anyway."

"Indeed," he responded, allowing a half-smile to flicker across his features before dropping his gaze to the menu. He read the Soups and Salads part of the menu three times, but was failing to take in any of the information. Was it hot in this restaurant? It felt hot. He quickly decided to take a sip of the water Phoenix had ordered for him. And then another sip. And another.

"So, what are you in the mood for?" Phoenix asked, scanning his own menu. "I'm in the mood for soup, I think. But which one..." He hummed thoughtfully, dragging his finger down the menu. "Ooh, I think I'll have the Italian Wedding soup!"

Miles promptly sucked some water into his lungs and slumped over, coughing and sputtering.

"Holy crap, M-Miles!" Phoenix stammered, getting to his feet and reaching over to pat Miles' back. "Are you okay?!"

"'M fine," he wheezed, his eyes watering.

"Are you sure you're all right today?" Phoenix asked again, rubbing soothing circles into his upper back. Like almost everything about Phoenix, his hand was warm and comforting.

"Y-Yes," he got out, finally managing to take a deep breath again. "I'm sorry, it's just, something unnerving happened at work and I... I'm still working through it." There, that was both a convincing story and the truth, sort of.

Phoenix looked sympathetic as he sat back down. "Yeah, the job can be kinda rough sometimes," he said with a nod. "Anyway, you're on your lunch break, so let's not talk about work."

"A fine suggestion," Miles responded. He told himself to pull himself together already. Wright was going to start thinking Miles was sick. Or worse, he was going to start thinking there was something wrong between them. He cleared his throat, looking over his menu again. "So... what is Trucy up to?"

"She's spending the day at Nine Tails Vale," Phoenix answered with a smile. He always lit up when he talked about his daughter. "Her friend Jinxie invited her."

"Ah," Miles nodded. He thought he recalled Trucy having mentioned this Jinxie before. If Miles was remembering correctly, she was the one who was obsessed with yokai. A rather unusual hobby, to be sure, but then again, how many teenage stage magicians were there either? "Will she be home for supper?"

"Most likely. Why, did you have any dinner ideas?"

"No, but you never do either, so I suppose we're even," Miles quipped. Phoenix nudged his foot against Miles' leg under the table in protest. Miles smirked at him. Even when he was feeling anxious like this, Phoenix had a way of setting him at ease and making things feel... normal again.

He allowed himself to relax, and just enjoy lunch with Phoenix.

* * *

Regrettably, relaxation and Miles Edgeworth seldom kept company for long.

He was just about to climb into his car at the end of the day when he felt his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered the call. "Chief Prosecutor Miles E—"

She didn't even let him finish. "Size 10!" Kay exclaimed.

"Wh...what?" What kind of greeting was that?

"Mr. Wright's ring size," the Great Thief clarified. "It's 10. Or at least, it was when he was in college. You might want to go one half-size up just to be safe. You can always resize it later!"

Miles flapped his jaw a few times. "H-How in the world did you find it out so quickly?!" he finally managed to get out, opening the car door and dropping into his seat.

"His class ring," she chirped. "I found it."

"Wh—you _broke into our home?!_ " He had been about to put the keys in the ignition, but paused and dropped his hand, utterly flabbergasted.

"Of course not!" She sounded offended. "I called Trucy and asked if I could go get something I left at you guys' place! She told me about the key under the mat, heheh."

Well, Miles thought, now they'd have to move the key. But he knew better than to leave it at that. "And then?" he prompted.

"And then... okay, yeah, I did a little snooping, but it was for a good cause!"

Miles sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, defeated. "10, you said?"

"Yep! Although I'd go with a 10.5 to be safe, just in case anything's changed since college."

"Okay," he said tonelessly. He paused. She had definitely invaded their privacy, but she had also just given him very useful information... "I... I suppose I should thank you."

"It's generally the way things go, but you've never been conventional."

He huffed out a small laugh. "Just this once, I'll follow convention. Thank you, Kay."

Kay didn't say anything for a moment. "O-Of course!" She sounded surprised. "So... does that mean you'll keep talking to me about this?..."

"Well, it's not as if I have anyone else I could talk to about it," he admitted.

"Yesss! Oh, thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I won't let you down!"

"I know," he said, and he meant it. Well, he was already this far in. Why not throw away a little more dignity while he was at it? "So... um. Wh-What style do you think I should look into? For the ring."

"Hmmm, well, as a Great Thief, I am of course well-acquainted with jewelry of all types," she said proudly. "But I don't think Mr. Wright would care what style, in my professional opinion." Miles interpreted this as " _I don't know what the shapes are called._ "

"Well, you're probably right that he doesn't care about style," Miles snorted. "So I guess I should just... pick what I think is best?"

"Bingo! You got it!"

"Hmm. I see. I can do that," he decided. "Thank you for your input." Not that she'd given him much.

"Hey, anytime! All right, I'm guessing you're headed home right about now, so I'll let you go," said Kay. "Let's talk more tomorrow. Give Mr. Wright a kiss for me!"

"No."

She just giggled and hung up.

Miles wondered again if he was making an enormous mistake.

* * *

 **A/N** : Next time: A serenade in strings.

Proposal shenanigans next chapter! Thanks for reading, everyone. I love you.


	2. Music

**A/N:** So, you guys probably didn't know this unless you know my tumblr (wingsonghalo), but... I lost the document that had the entirety of both Project: Matchmakers AND the whole of Project: Matrimony in it.

It was... not a good time. I have had deaths in the family that were less upsetting. I thought I was going to die. I screamed until there were spots in front of my eyes, and I cried so much my eyes were raw and hurt to touch the entire next day. I still feel like I'm grieving. I keep wanting to just tab over to it, but it's just... gone. I feel like it's a phantom limb: I can still feel it. I just can't do anything with it.

But today is my birthday, and posting a chapter is the best part of my week, so hell if I was going to miss posting on my birthday.

I rewrote everything from memory, so I don't think it's as good, frankly, but I hope you'll like it anyway. The other chapters are slowly coming along as well. I've scrawled out every important dialogue I remembered verbatim into a notepad doc so I can rewrite it all. I haven't given up and I never will! Thank you so much to everyone who offered their encouragement, and to everyone who is reading this now! I hope this rewrite will end up even better!

* * *

Phoenix was almost positive there was something wrong with Miles.

He'd seemed a little off for weeks, but it had been particularly noticeable the past few days. Phoenix would catch him looking off into the distance, his brow furrowed, and he always seemed taken aback when Phoenix asked what was wrong. He'd even seemed a little distant with Trucy, answering noncommittally to her questions and acting anxious. Phoenix was beginning to suspect that he was keeping something big from them. But it was easy to let his worries fade into blissful contentment when they laid together side by side at night. He trusted Miles. They were happy. Surely if something was truly wrong, he would tell him, right?

So why had he seen a lock across his chest when he'd claimed to be fine at lunch today?

Was Miles hiding something from him? He frowned at the thought as he dumped some raw spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water. It wasn't a totally unsubstantiated idea. Miles had indeed hidden things from him before. But that had been years ago, and every time Miles had let him down had been a source of deep shame and regret for the prosecutor. Miles had been trying so hard to make up for everything he'd ever done wrong, even if Phoenix had forgiven him years ago. They were different people now, more honest with each other.

So why was he being so difficult now? Phoenix had been trying to be patient, to wait for Miles to talk to him when he was ready. He had been patient with him before, after all. For years, even. But in recent months, Phoenix had become quite used to getting what he wanted, so his boyfriend's sudden reticence was frustrating. Phoenix's puppy dog eyes had unearthed quite a few secrets from Miles, but he felt reasonably sure that this wouldn't be one of them. And if he pressed the issue, Miles might clam up or withdraw completely, and Phoenix adamantly refused to let that happen. They had come too far now to take such a huge step backwards.

So perhaps waiting really was the best course of action. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't also ask the occasional gently probing question...

He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. "I'm home!" Trucy called out. He heard her footsteps approaching, and then she was standing next to him at the stove. "Spaghetti tonight, huh?" she said, looking up at him. She had gone without her hat today, allowing her shiny brown hair to show, but the rest of her magician outfit was intact. The two little cowlicks at the top of her head always reminded Phoenix of Apollo, her half-brother.

Phoenix offered a somewhat apologetic smile. "Yeah, I uh… kind of forgot to go grocery shopping today. Hope this is all right."

"Sure, I love spaghetti!" she said brightly, turning towards the kitchen table and pulling out her chair.

"So, how was Jinxie?" he asked as he swirled the noodles, which had already started to soften.

"Oh, she's great!" responded Trucy with a grin as she sat down. "We spent all day tracking an Ippondatara." She giggled. "Turns out, it was just someone who had been dragging their bag behind them in the snow!"

Phoenix knew better than to ask what an Ippondatara was. "Well, I'm glad you solved the mystery," he said instead.

"Mmhmm!" said Trucy, resting her elbows on the table, which was full-sized and solid wood and could probably seat twelve people if you really squeezed together. Phoenix still had trouble believing he had a full-size kitchen now. It kind of blew him away. "Speaking of mysteries," his daughter continued, looking over her shoulder at him, "Where's Papa?"

There was another thing that blew him away. Phoenix's stomach filled with hyperactive butterflies, and he couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face. "H-He should be home any second now," he answered, knowing that even though he was turned away from Trucy, she would probably still hear the embarrassingly large smile in his voice.

As if waiting for his cue, the door opened and Miles Edgeworth himself swept in, donning his winter coat as per usual.

Phoenix looked over at Trucy and grinned. "Man, I'm good." Trucy giggled.

Miles stood there looking between Trucy and Phoenix for a moment, but then seemed to decide that Phoenix's non sequitur was not worth thinking too hard about. "Didn't we have spaghetti last week?" he said to Phoenix instead, hanging up his coat.

"Oh, hush," Phoenix said mildly, giving the noodles another stir. "Spaghetti is a great, easy meal which is also delicious."

Miles sighed. "I'll make the sauce," he decided, and made his way across the kitchen to retrieve a jar from the pantry.

Phoenix glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as Miles poured the sauce into a pan and turned on the burner. He wanted to ask him so many things right now, but he had no idea where to start, and he didn't know how to discuss his worries without putting Miles on his guard. So he simply remained quiet as they stood together at the stove.

"I guess you guys make a good team in the kitchen, too, huh?" Trucy remarked, watching the two of them stand over the burners.

"Not exactly," said Miles, glancing at Trucy. "Much like in the courtroom, I merely take pity on your father if I see him floundering too much."

"Harsh," Phoenix said, though he smiled so Miles knew he wasn't really offended. He knew by now how to distinguish between which of Miles' comments were sardonic exaggeration and which were legitimate criticisms (they were hardly ever legitimate criticisms).

There was silence for a little while, except for the sizzling of the burners. Phoenix felt himself start to sweat, though perhaps it was the steam.

"So," said Phoenix finally, glancing at his boyfriend again. "Did you… ever figure out the unnerving thing?"

"What?" He looked startled, turning towards Phoenix as if only remembering that he was there. "Oh, um, yes. Well, part of it, anyway." Miles was staring at the spaghetti. Or, no, wait, he was staring at the spatula as it moved, following the movements of Phoenix's hand. Maybe he was really hungry?

"That's good," Phoenix answered, nodding a little as he returned his attention to the spaghetti and Miles resumed pushing around some bits of meat with his spatula. They fell quiet again as he watched the noodles. Stir, stir, stir. "Do you… want to talk about it?" he ventured.

Miles' face froze up, and his expression was uncomfortable for a moment before it smoothed out again. "No," he said, and then looked unsure. "Yes?" he revised. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the sauce. "Not yet. Soon. I promise." He looked a little flushed, and Phoenix wasn't sure it was because of the heat from the stove.

"Okay," said Phoenix, deciding not to push things for now. He could press Miles about it more after dinner.

* * *

"All right, mister," Phoenix said, turning to Miles on the couch after Trucy had bade them good night. "What's the deal here?"

He looked evasive already, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "I… I don't know what you mean," he muttered, somewhat lamely.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. "You give me a mindblowingly tender kiss before you leave this morning, but now you won't even answer questions like 'how did it go at work'?" Miles stared at the floor, his brow furrowing. He looked guilty. "Look, I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable here," Phoenix continued, "but I just want to make sure everything's okay. You've been acting kind of weird for a while now, and sometimes it even seems like you've been avoiding Trucy, and if I've done anything wr—"

"Phoenix," Miles cut him off, taking his hand and finally looking him in the face. His cool gray eyes were searching Phoenix's earnestly. "I… I'm sorry it feels like I'm keeping something from you," he said quietly. "I've just been thinking about something lately that has been… difficult for me." He squeezed Phoenix's hand before letting it go. "But there is absolutely nothing wrong between you and me, or Trucy and me. Please believe me."

Phoenix squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, reaching his hand into his pocket to touch the Magatama.

No locks.

"All right," he conceded, feeling a little more relaxed already. "I trust you."

The prosecutor's face broke into a relieved smile. "Thank you," he said sincerely. But then his expression clouded over a little again, and he looked down pensively.

"Something on your mind?" Phoenix prompted him.

"I was thinking," he said suddenly, head snapping back up. He reached over and took both of Phoenix's hands this time, stroking his thumbs over the tops of them. "Let's… let's go somewhere, some evening this week. Just the two of us."

The defense attorney blinked at him in surprise. That kind of spontaneous suggestion was not typically Miles' _modus operandi._ "Like… like a date?"

"Yes, like a date," he confirmed, nodding. His expression was intent, full of a new resolve. He'd decided on something, though Phoenix had no idea what.

"Okay," said Phoenix, a smile spreading across his face. "Where are we going? A restaurant?"

Miles shook his head and looked away again, muttering something like "that won't do _._ " He thought a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I was thinking somewhere a bit nicer. Somewhere with music, perhaps?"

"Music?..." Phoenix thought a moment. "Hmmm…" He looked off to the side, up towards the ceiling. "Well, Trucy mentioned that Ariadne Stringer was going to be performing with a small strings group soon…" He shrugged, returning his attention to Miles. "It wouldn't be a black tie affair or anything, but it should be classy enough for a date, I think. I'll ask Trucy for more details tomorrow."

He nodded. "That will do," he said decisively. A smile that was half-nervous and half-anticipatory flashed across his face. He brought Phoenix's hands to his lips and kissed them gently, and then suddenly released them and rose to his feet. "Well, I think it's about time I turn in for the night," he said briskly.

"What?" Phoenix twisted in his seat to watch him start walking away. "It's only 11!" he complained. Sure, he might share a bed with Miles every night now, but he still highly valued his Couch Cuddle Time. And the mood had been getting so nice, too...

"I have some business to take care of tomorrow, and I want to be well-rested," Miles informed him, standing outside the door to their bedroom and looking back at him as he opened it. "Good night, Phoenix." He stepped in and closed the door.

After a moment, it opened again, and Miles stuck his head back out. "Are… are you going to stay out there for a while, or…?" He looked embarrassed.

Phoenix smirked. Evidently Miles had gotten used to having Phoenix next to him when he slept. "I'll be right there, darling," he cooed.

"Ugh," Miles scoffed, but Phoenix caught the tips of his ears turning pink as he shut the door again.

* * *

Miles felt very awkward as he stepped into the jeweler's the next day. The more he tried to perform all these prerequisites to marriage, the more he had started to feel like it was all designed to humiliate him.

He had only been there for two seconds when he was ambushed by a sales lady in a smooth purple blouse and black slacks. "Hello, sir! How can I help you today?" Her smile was a little too wide.

"Well, I..." Miles trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He looked around at the surroundings, trying to gather his thoughts. Expensive-looking chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and lavish pieces of artwork adorned every wall. The jewelry itself glinted in at least a dozen long glass cases. There was some kind of waterfall running down a smooth, polished marble surface over on one wall. What was that doing here? What purpose did it serve? Was it just supposed to look elegant?

Apparently he wasn't supposed to be looking at the interior right now, however, because the sales lady stepped in front of him, blocking his line of sight. "Sir?" she said again. That wide smile was a bit frightening, on second glance. "What brings you in today?"

"I'm… uh..." He felt his face going hot. The sales lady blinked, her over-zealously applied mascara fluttering like butterfly wings, and waited. Her smile, frozen in place, was beginning to look painful. "I'm looking for an engagement ring," he finally forced out, partially because he was afraid her face would stick like that.

"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She'd painted her nails a sparkly gold, Miles noticed. "And what are we considering for the lucky lady?"

Miles cleared his throat. "Gentleman," he said quietly.

"Oh?" Her smile dropped a little in confusion for a moment, and her eyebrows drew together. "Oh!" she said then, her hazel eyes widening in realization. "Oh, oh! _Oh._ Oh!"

Miles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead just stared. Was saying "oh" that many times strictly necessary? He was beginning to regret correcting her, although he supposed it would have most likely come up sooner or later when he revealed Phoenix's ring size.

"M-My apologies, sir," tittered the saleswoman, patting her wavy brown hair nervously. "What are we considering for the lucky _gentleman?_ " Though she seemed embarrassed, her smile had at least smoothed into a more natural-looking one, now that she knew Miles was not just here to gawk and then leave.

"I was thinking something in gold?" he said hesitantly. "Possibly with a blue gemstone?" Those two colors did hold significance for Phoenix, after all. They also undeniably suited him. "Ring size is a 10, though I have been advised to play it safe and go with a 10.5."

"Well, we can certainly find something that fits the bill!" the woman assured him brightly, and she began to lead the way over to one of the glass cases. "Now, if you'll follow me over here, we have some gold bands..."

* * *

Miles left a while later with the ring he'd selected, feeling somewhat relieved that he could cross that particular task off the list. The sales lady had been friendly enough, but she spoke quickly and far too much, and Miles had felt exhausted just listening to her. When he had spotted the perfect ring, he'd indicated it right away. She had begun listing payment plan options, but by that time Miles was getting a bit impatient, so he had said he would pay it all up-front. Her mouth had dropped open wide like a nutcracker's. Evidently paying it all at once was not a common practice. But he had had the money ready in his account anyway, and frankly he was quite eager to leave already, so he had made his purchase and left.

The tiny velvet box felt heavy in his pocket. Perhaps it was the weight of its significance.

He pulled out his phone as he pressed the button on his keys to unlock his car. He might as well give his only confidante an update.

"Great Thief Yatagarasu and Romance Guru Kay Faraday, at your service!" she answered brightly after only one ring.

"Kay," he said, ignoring her new self-assigned moniker as he dropped into his seat. "I've bought a ring."

"What, that fast?" She sounded surprised.

Miles paused in the middle of fastening his seatbelt. "Is… is it supposed to take a long time?" he asked. Perhaps he had been a bit hasty with his purchase after all…

"Nah, I'm sure you're fine!" she assured him. "Are you gonna send me pics?"

Miles cringed. "I'd prefer the only evidence of this transaction to be the receipt in my pocket," he said. "I suppose you could stop by my office and take a look sometime, if you really want to see it."

"Oh, fine," she grumbled. "Stingy. So, what's the proposal plan?"

"I'm going to take him to a concert," Miles replied, glad that he actually had an answer to that. "Ariadne Stringer is performing with a string ensemble this Thursday. Classical music is suitably romantic, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's plenty romantic!" she said, sounding impressed. Miles allowed himself to feel the slightest bit pleased with himself. "So what song is going to be playing while you ask the question?"

Miles blinked. "What song?" he parroted blankly.

"Well, yeah! You can't just propose in the middle of a concert. Wouldn't that be disruptive?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. She had a point. "What is my alternative, here?"

"Well, you could call up the concert venue or the performers, and let them know what you plan to do, so they're not surprised when it happens at a certain point in the concert," she responded, her voice matter-of-fact like she gave this kind of advice all the time. "Ooh! You could even have them play a special song!" she said then, her tone brightening with excitement. "A spotlight shines on the two of you as you sit in the middle row, the music swelling as you get down on one knee…!"

"I-I never wanted it to be as public as all that!" he said hastily, his face flushing a little. "I'll get a box seat and do it in private, thank you very much!"

"Fiiiine," she said, as if Miles was very unexciting.

"And that aside, why on earth would I want that many people looking at us?" Miles pointed out, reaching his free hand up to adjust his rearview mirror. "I don't want him to feel pressured into saying yes just to please a crowd!"

He heard her snort. "Oh, please. _Pressure_ him? I have _seen_ the way he looks at you. He's going to be jumping up to say yes!" Miles' cheeks burned, but Kay continued before he could say anything. "And from what I know about Mr. Wright, he eats up big romantic gestures with a spoon."

"Well, you may be right in that regard, at least," he admitted with a sigh. He let his head fall back against the headrest.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to draw that much attention, though," Kay admitted.

"Thank you for your empathy," he told her flatly.

"I still think you should find a special song," she said next. "I mean, having a song played just for you..." She sighed dreamily. "Anyone's heart would melt."

Privately, Miles had to agree that it wasn't a terrible idea. But all he told her was "I'll think about it."

"You'd better!" she said. "And for goodness sake, hide that thing well! If Trucy or Mr. Wright find it, it's all over!"

Miles grimaced. She was right. He had no plan in place for hiding the ring. He supposed he had mostly been planning on keeping it in his suit jacket pocket, but that probably wouldn't be practical. "Actually," he said, striking upon a sudden idea, "Could I give it to you to hold onto?"

"Why, Mistah Edgeworth," Kay said, suddenly with a breathy Southern accent. "Ah do declayuh, Ah never expected you ta offer me a ring!"

Miles didn't dignify that with a response. "Will you hang onto it?" he reiterated.

"You know, when someone makes a joke, you really gotta learn to just go with it," she grumbled under her breath before returning to her usual cheerful tone. "Sure, I can do that! I'll swing by your office around noon?"

"All right. Thank you, Kay."

"Anytime!" she replied graciously. "All right, I'll see you tomorrow at noon. Have a good night, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"You as well, Kay," Miles returned, and then clicked off the phone.

* * *

Contact the concert venue or the musicians, eh? It wasn't the worst idea in the world, Miles thought the next day as he took a walk around People Park. He knew Ariadne Stringer from the kidnapping case, after all, and the girl was quite pleasant and agreeable. No, indeed, that was the part of this that Miles was _least_ dreading.

But a special song? He couldn't think of a single one that was special to the two of them. Sure, Miles might think of Phoenix every time he heard Elgar's _Salut d'Amour_ or Mascagni's _Cavalleria Rusticana Intermezzo,_ but he highly doubted that Phoenix would recognize either of those just by hearing them, and they could hardly be considered special to both of them.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way down the footpath. The late January air was cool, but moisture still hung in the atmosphere like a shroud. The trees on either side of the path were still bare, and the sky was endless gray, so there wasn't much for Miles to look at. Phoenix had gone to visit the Feys in Kurain for the day, and he had taken Trucy with him. Miles had been invited too, of course, but he had claimed to have some paperwork that he needed to finish (which had actually been true). He had needed to be at his office to give Kay the ring, after all.

But his paperwork hadn't taken much time at all, and the ring was now safely in Kay's possession, so Miles found himself with time on his hands to walk and brood.

What kind of music did Wright even enjoy? He realized with a bit of a shock that he had never learned. Did he even have any CDs? Surely he had to at least have a few… but then why had Miles never seen them? They _lived together!_

It was probably force of habit and the close proximity to the park, but he soon found himself staring at the door to the Wright Anything Agency. His feet had taken him here before he'd realized. Well, being in a familiar environment didn't sound bad at the moment. Just because he was lost in thought didn't mean he had to be physically lost as well.

He made up his mind, and turned the doorknob to the Agency.

* * *

"Music… Music..." he muttered, sitting on the sofa and holding his head in his hands as he thought. "What kind of music would Wright enjoy?..."

"I'm pretty sure he likes musicals," said a voice from right behind him.

" _Waaaaah!_ " he squawked, tumbling off the couch in a most undignified fashion. He scrambled to his feet and straightened his glasses, which had fallen halfway down his face. Athena Cykes' surprised expression came into view.

"Whoa, are you okay?" she said, hurrying towards the front of the couch.

"M-Ms. Cykes!" he sputtered, sitting back down and smoothing his lapels. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

She tilted her head, her ginger ponytail spilling over one shoulder. "Um, but you're the one who started the conversation when you wandered in and asked me how things were at the Agency."

"Did… _Did_ I do that?" Miles asked weakly. He sort of remembered passing something vaguely human-shaped on his way to the sofas. He must have muttered out pleasantries without even noticing. He really ought to have realized it when the Agency wasn't locked. "I-I apologize… I'm quite preoccupied."

"Yeah, I noticed," she told him, smiling a little wryly. She looked at him a moment, and bit her lip, her expression becoming nervous. Or perhaps it was concerned? "Mr. Edgeworth, I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but… your emotions are a mess right now. What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing is wrong," he said quickly. Denial was always the easiest line of defense.

"Hmm..." She was scanning him with those blue eyes of hers, her mouth quirked up on one side. "Well, you were muttering about Mr. Wright, so I'm assuming whatever you're worried about has to do with him."

He winced. "Never you mind," he said. He cleared his throat, and looked around the Agency to avoid her keen eyes. "That aside," he started, hoping he was making his voice as casual as possible, "...O-on what do you base your claim that Wright enjoys musicals?..."

"On the fact that I catch him singing songs from _Les Miserables_ and _Wicked_ all the time, mostly," she answered, resting a hand on her hip. "He really gets into it when he's cleaning this place and thinks no one can hear him." She grimaced a little. "But he doesn't realize that with ears like mine, I can definitely still hear him… even from outside the Agency."

"Hmm… I see..." Miles put his chin on top of his clasped hands as he rested his elbows on his knees and thought. He had heard of both of those shows, and even knew the story behind the former. Perhaps he could find something from one of those that would work? But what if there wasn't anything that suited them? What if the performers didn't know the song, or couldn't learn it in time? Worst of all, what if he couldn't get up the courage to ask him anyway even _with_ the song playing? And how in the world had Miles known Phoenix for so long without knowing something this simple about him? Did someone as unobservant as him even deserve to get married?

"Mr. Edgeworth… please…" He returned his attention to Athena, who was looking at him with misty eyes, her face a little twisted in pain as her robot companion glowed dull blue. "The doubt and sadness I'm hearing from you… it's unbearable…!"

Miles felt his face go hot. "Then don't listen to it!" he snapped, embarrassed.

"Hey, you're the one in _my_ office!" she retorted, and then gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "I-I'm so sorry, Chief Prosecutor… please forgive my rudeness..."

He waved her off. "You needn't kowtow to me. We are friends, are we not?"

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "R-really? Wow… thanks!" She sounded moved. The robot around her neck shone bright green now.

"I apologize for intruding and then ignoring you," he said with an incline of his head. "It was thoughtless of me."

"It's okay," she said quickly, sitting down on the other couch and watching him closely, her hands in her lap. "You know, if there's anything you want to get off your chest…" She hesitated and began to pet her ponytail a little nervously. "I-I'm a professional..."

He sighed. "I know you are..."

He allowed himself to consider it. Maybe he _should_ just tell her? She was a bright young woman, if a bit foolhardy and impulsive. She knew Phoenix well, and could probably answer some of Miles' questions, even. Still, she was quite as headstrong and opinionated as Kay was. If he told her, would he not then have to contend with the harebrained schemes of two women rather than just one?...

"I'm getting a lot of uncertainty," said Athena, her posture alert like a hound on the scent.

Miles frowned, frustrated that he couldn't even _think_ without having his feelings analyzed, but when he met Athena's eyes, they were intent and full of earnestness. They reminded Miles of her mentor's.

He sighed, and made his decision. "If I tell you, you must promise to never breathe a word to anyone else, even if you think they may already know the secret." He gave her his best icy glare, the one that had been intimidating people in the courtroom for decades, and narrowed his eyes. "Am I clear?"

She gulped and shrank back into the couch a little, but tenaciously did not break eye contact. "Crystal," she said, her voice a bit strained.

He nodded, and took a breath, his gaze darting away as he forced the words out. "I… I have been trying to ask Wright to marry me."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and glanced back over at her to see that her eyes were suddenly swimming with tears as she covered her mouth. "That's… that's wonderful!" Her voice was shaky, and she sniffled. "You guys… you guys are going to be… so happyyyyyy!" she wailed, her tears finally spilling over.

"M-Ms. Cykes!" he sputtered in a panic, grabbing the box of tissues off the coffee table and holding it out to her. "Please, calm yourself!"

"I'b sorry," she warbled, accepting a tissue and blowing her nose with a loud honk. "It's just… I've never actually seen anyone I know get married before… It's going to be so beautiful…!"

Miles scoffed. "Not if I never manage to ask him," he grumbled.

Abruptly, her eyebrows angled down and her tearfulness seemed to vanish. "Mr. Edgeworth, you've got to have some confidence in yourself!" she told him firmly. "Of course you can ask him!"

"Even if I do, there's no guarantee you'll see a wedding," Miles pointed out. "He could say no."

"No he couldn't," she responded immediately. "He's totally crazy about you." Her eyes were dancing with a kind of ardent enthusiasm that made Miles a little uncomfortable. "You should hear the way his heart starts pounding a mile a minute whenever anyone so much as mentions your name!"

Frankly, that sounded a little worrisome to Miles. Perhaps Wright should see a cardiologist? "Still," he said, trying to keep his blushing under control, "My proposal could fall through for any number of reasons. Perhaps I'll take too long to ask, and Wright will get tired of waiting. Or perhaps he won't feel ready for such a commitment. Or maybe the manner in which I choose to propose will be so utterly unromantic that—"

She held up a hand to stop him, and for some reason, Miles obeyed the nonverbal signal. It was probably because she looked so stern right now. "Mr. Edgeworth, please, don't make excuses," she said. Miles couldn't help feeling a little offended by that. He wasn't trying to make excuses. These were his honest insecurities. He opened his mouth to say so, but she held up her hand for silence again, and again his mouth closed on its own. "Mr. Wright would wait for you forever, I'm pretty sure he's been ready to marry you since you've been together, and he would say yes even if you asked him while you were watching TV." She crossed her arms decisively.

"But… I don't want to ask him while we're watching television," he confessed. "I've… I've picked out a ring and everything." He stared at his knees, tapping his fingers together in a gesture that was more like Phoenix than himself. "There's a concert soon, and… I wanted to find a special song for them to play..."

He heard another sniffle, and looked up. Athena's eyes were glistening again. Miles hoped she didn't start crying again. Once had been awkward enough. "That's… so sweet…!" she said emotionally.

"Nngh..." He flushed as he stared at the wall and pointedly not at her. Athena Cykes was now the third person to call any of his actions "sweet." Was he, as Phoenix would no doubt have quipped, losing his edge?… "I assure you, there are a great number of individuals who would say otherwise," he blustered, crossing his arms.

She smiled. "I'm so happy for you guys," she said. "I know you'll keep each other happy."

"Thank you," he said, embarrassed, "but please, reserve your blessings for after I've actually asked him."

Athena nodded. "Well, in that case, I wish you luck in your daring and noble quest!"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm proposing marriage, not slaying a dragon."

She shook her head and grinned. "I have a feeling that in your case, this requires just as much bravery."

He frowned at her, annoyed that he couldn't refute that.

* * *

Phoenix groaned in frustration and stuck his tongue between his teeth as he attempted to re-tie his tie for the fourth time.

He wasn't sure why Miles had insisted on dressing up a little for this occasion—the theater wasn't even that large, from what he'd heard, and it was a Thursday night, so there probably wouldn't even be that many people there. But Trucy was practicing her act down at the Penrose, so they had the evening to themselves. Ordinarily Phoenix would be happy to spend a night alone with Miles at home in pajamas (or nothing), but the fact was that he hardly ever got to go out with Miles anymore for things that weren't crime scene-related. And so he had agreed to wear this dumb cobalt blue tie, and the dark-gray waistcoat, and the navy suit jacket and pants ("I didn't even know you _had_ other formal clothes!" Miles had exclaimed in amazement when they'd searched the closet. "Why do you _only_ wear the blue suit?" Phoenix had weakly replied that he liked the blue suit, and then countered by asking why Miles only wore the maroon one. "It's my trademark," he had said stuffily. What, like the blue suit wasn't Phoenix's?).

He swore this tie was a million times harder to tie than the pink one. For one thing, it was so unused that the silky material kept slipping through his fingers, and for another, he wasn't exactly an expert at tying a necktie in the first place. Sometimes, at the end of a long day, he would simply loosen the pink one and slip it off his neck, and tighten it again the next day. No one had to know, right?

"Are you still trying to tie that?" came Miles' voice as he emerged from the bathroom. He looked fantastic in a white dress shirt, dark red waistcoat, charcoal gray suit jacket and pants, and...

"Whoa!" said Phoenix, reeling back a little. "You're actually wearing a tie!"

Miles flushed a little. "You've seen me without the cravat before," he pointed out. Well, that was true. Miles didn't wear the damn thing to bed after all.

"Still, though... a _tie!_ " It was a nice one, too: stripes of black and ivory and the same dark red as the waistcoat. He had tied it in a perfect Windsor knot, of course. Phoenix looked down at his own attempt lamely.

"I can't believe you," Miles sighed, striding over to him and swatting Phoenix's hands away from the necktie. He looped his meager efforts over his head to start from scratch. "Don't you wear a tie on a daily basis? How is this that difficult for you?"

He gave him a sheepish smile. At least this gave him the opportunity to be close to Miles and watch him work. Perhaps it was love that was making his vision of the other man rosier, but Phoenix was almost certain that in recent months, the furrow between his brows had all but disappeared. Well, unless he was worried or angry. Then it reappeared. "I mean," he said in answer to Miles' question, "Just because I _wear_ one most days doesn't mean I _tie_ one most days…"

Miles raised an eyebrow at him before returning his attention to the tie, looping and crossing the fabric expertly. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he said hesitantly, a little afraid of how Mr. Fancy Dresser would react. "Sometimes I... leave it tied?" He'd ended on a reluctant squeak.

As expected, Miles gave a scandalized gasp and looked at him in horror. "You _what?!_ "

"Trucy ties it for me sometimes! I can do it myself occasionally!" he defended himself. He slumped his shoulders a little. "I just... never got very good at it..."

Miles _tsk_ ed and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know how you've survived this long with such a rudimentary understanding of something so basic."

"Well, uh..." He rubbed the back of his head, a little embarrassed. "For a long time I wore clip-on ties, before I learned how to tie the knot."

"T-Tie th..." Suddenly Phoenix's neck was being constricted. Miles' fingers had frozen, pulling the tie tight around Phoenix's neck, and the prosecutor had gone pale, staring at nothing.

"M-Miles..." Phoenix wheezed. "Choking me..."

"What?"Miles said, coming out of the trance. He glanced down at his fingers, and gasped, immediately loosening the noose. "I-I'm so sorry, Phoenix!"

"S'okay," he said, glad to be able to breathe again. He eyed Miles a little suspiciously. What in the world had brought that on?...

"Well, anyway," said Miles, still looking flustered as he adjusted the knot, "It's done."

Phoenix leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. "Thanks," he said, and smiled at him as they made their way towards the door. "Next time I could do without the strangulation though."

"Next time you're tying it yourself!" Miles barked.

Phoenix just grinned.

* * *

The theater was a lot bigger than Phoenix had thought it would be, and there was actually a modest crowd here. He wondered if another group besides Ariadne's was performing tonight as his eyes scanned the program he'd picked up in the hall. He couldn't look at it for very long, though, because Miles was making his way through the theater like he'd been here a hundred times, and Phoenix didn't want to lose sight of him.

He looked all around as he followed behind the prosecutor, trying to take in everything. The walls were a textured red with gold columns, the carpet was deep burgundy, and the absolutely colossal stage curtain was a dark wine red. The stage itself was polished wood, and much larger than the tiny, ramshackle stages Phoenix had occasionally performed on in college. Lavish baroque-inspired paintings adorned the ceiling in a circle. It was definitely a fancier place than Phoenix was used to. He felt a little out of his element.

Miles took his hand as Phoenix started towards the seats, tugging on it gently. "This way," he said, jerking his head towards one of the staircases off to the side. Phoenix let him pull him along without really thinking about it.

He glanced at the top of the staircase curiously as they approached it, and then back down at his boyfriend in surprise. "We got box seats?" he asked incredulously as Miles let go of his hand and started up the stairs ahead of him. "How'd you pull that off? I thought they didn't let anyone sit up there unless there were enough people in attendance."

Miles extended his hand and helped Phoenix up the last few steps. "I have my ways," he said enigmatically.

Phoenix was about to ask what he meant, but then he got a look at where they had ended up, and his mouth fell open.

There was a small table, right on this little balcony, set with two glasses of wine and illuminated with candlelight.

"Miles," he said in amazement as the prosecutor pulled out his chair for him, "did you plan this?"

He rolled his eyes as Phoenix sat down. "No, Wright, the theater prepared a balcony with candles and wine just in case anyone _happened by._ Of _course_ I planned this!"

"You know, that gesture would have been a lot sweeter without the sarcasm," Phoenix teased him, his mouth lifting in a half smile as Miles took his own seat.

The other man actually looked abashed, his brow furrowing and his gaze dropping to the tablecloth. "I… I'm sorry, Phoenix," he said quietly. "You're right. I'm just… a little nervous today."

Phoenix felt his eyebrows drawing together, too. "Why?"

"I-It's not important," said Miles hastily, which of course meant it was probably very important. "Anyway, it sounds like the performers are warming up."

Indeed, the sound of string instruments playing quiet, tremulous notes had filled the air. Phoenix listened to all the different tones as they sang, weaving between low octaves and high ones. There were probably cellos and violas and everything else back there, but Phoenix had never been very good at identifying instruments by sound. They all just sounded like "strings" to him. But one of those violins was being held by the girl they had saved last month. He smiled at the thought.

"You're thinking about how we saved Ariadne, aren't you?" Miles asked him. His expression was fond, and one side of his mouth had lifted in a half-smile.

Phoenix smiled back. "Pretty good guess," he replied. "You know, if you hadn't driven that truck, she might not have made it."

"If you hadn't carried her up that cliff on your back, she might not have either," Miles pointed out.

"And if Kay hadn't tipped us off, neither of us would have gotten there." He raised his glass. "To teamwork?"

Miles' smile widened, and he clinked his glass against Phoenix's. "To teamwork," he agreed.

They sat together in companionable silence, sipping their wine occasionally, but soon enough the lights were dimming, and the murmur of the crowd died down as everyone looked towards the stage. Slowly, the curtain opened, and the performers came into view. Phoenix craned his neck to see, and his eyes finally landed on Ariadne—she was one of three violinists, the one sitting closest to the conductor in the semicircle they had formed around him. She looked even healthier than she had when he had last seen her, just before New Year's. Only weeks after she'd been rescued, a mysterious benefactor had donated a sum of money which had allowed Ariadne and her mother to move to a nicer apartment, and for her mother to begin treatment for her illness. Phoenix was 99% certain that the benefactor was across the table from him. Miles never liked to make a big deal out of it when he did something selfless or generous, and he always changed the subject if anyone brought up the Stringers' sudden financial security.

There was dead silence as the conductor raised both his arms and moved them in rhythm to establish the countdown, and then with a dip of his hands the music began.

The first song started out sweet and slow and gentle. It sounded somewhat familiar, but Phoenix couldn't put a name to it. He squinted at his program in the dim candlelight.

" _Clair de Lune,_ " Miles said softly across the table before he could find the name. "Debussy."

Phoenix glanced up at him. Miles' face had relaxed, and he had turned his head to watch the music being made. The candlelight flickering across his features was a beautiful sight. Phoenix struggled to tear his gaze away from him and back down onto the stage, his eyes focusing on Ariadne again. She was moving the bow in long, graceful sweeps and delicate plucks. He didn't have a good view of her face from here, and each musician had a music stand in front of them, but Phoenix suspected from the way she was moving that she was playing with her eyes closed, like she had when Phoenix had seen her play at the Agency on New Year's. She had let her eyes fall shut and swayed in time with the music she made, playing from memory. "My bow remembers, and my ears remember, and my heart remembers," she had said when they asked how she could possibly play those pieces by ear. Then she'd laughed. "It's actually a lot harder to play with sheet music sometimes!"

As the music came to a soft finish, Phoenix raised his hands to clap, but Miles laid a hand on his arm and shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured. "There will be applause after the entire program."

Phoenix frowned, but lowered his arms again. It seemed a little rude not to applaud after such a beautiful performance, but he supposed he was grateful to Miles for helping him to narrowly escape the humiliation of being the only one to clap.

The concert proceeded in this manner for three or four more longer songs, and each time Miles would lean across the table to whisper the name of the song to him. It was very beautiful music, but it was obviously more Miles' territory than his own, so he felt a little at a loss for how to properly enjoy it. Phoenix found that his eyes tended to drift over to Miles instead of watching the performers. At the end of each song, Miles would shift in his seat and look a little more anxious. Phoenix wanted to ask why, but he suspected that talking during the concert for more than a few moments would have been a big no-no. So he simply sipped his wine and listened to the singing of the strings. There was also a piano over to one side, which Phoenix hadn't noticed at first because of the height of their vantage point, which occasionally chimed in with accompaniment.

And then, after the fifth song or so, a piano intro started up that he definitely recognized, though it certainly wasn't anything he had ever expected to hear played by a strings section.

"Um, why are they playing 'All the Wasted Time'?" he asked quietly, leaning over the table a little. "I mean, not that I don't love _Parade,_ but… kind of an odd choice, isn't it?"

"I-Is it?" Miles looked more tense than he'd been all evening, his eyes darting around and refusing to meet Phoenix's.

"Miles, what's the matter?" Phoenix asked, unable to ignore it any longer. "You've been on edge all evening."

"I..." He swallowed thickly. He moved his mouth a few times, but nothing came out for a moment. "Phoenix," he forced out at last. He clenched his hands into fists, and looked up to meet Phoenix's eyes. "There's… something I wanted to ask you. That's why I wanted to come to this theater, to sit in these seats, to hear this song."

Phoenix's eyebrows lifted. "You know this song too?" he asked, surprised.

"N-Not until two days ago," he said, but then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "But that's not the important part here." His mouth flattened into a line. He looked like he was struggling, so Phoenix reached across the table to put his hands over Miles'. Miles turned his hands over to hold his. The prosecutor's hands were clammy, and Phoenix could feel them shaking slightly. Why was he so reluctant? Was he going to deliver bad news? Did he have to go overseas for a case soon? Was this a "goodbye for now" date?…

"Phoenix," Miles started again. "You are the only one who has ever known me well enough to love me. And…" His face went pink enough to be noticeable even in the low light. "I never dreamed I could love someone as I love you." Phoenix felt his face go hot, too. He knew how Miles felt, but hearing him say it so plainly still made his head spin. He opened his mouth to respond, but Miles squeezed his hands gently. "Please, let me get this out," he said, and the defense attorney's mouth snapped closed again as he watched Miles gather his thoughts. Finally, he drew in a deep breath, his gray eyes burning into Phoenix's. "I… I want to stay by your side always," he said, his voice gaining confidence, although he'd let go of one of Phoenix's hands to nervously tuck it into his suit jacket pocket. "And so… Phoenix Wright… will—"

Suddenly, Phoenix's pocket vibrated, and he jumped in surprise. "Who could that be?" he complained, digging his phone out of his pocket. "Everybody knows I'm at a concert!" He glanced down at the phone, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw who had sent the message. "It's from Trucy!" he exclaimed in surprised, looking back up at Miles apologetically. "Can… Can I take a look…?"

Miles looked like the Steel Samurai Live Show was sold out and also canceled forever. "Y-Yes, go right ahead," he said nevertheless, letting Phoenix's other hand go and gesturing for him to continue.

"' _daddy, i hope u and papa r having fun,'"_ he read aloud. "' _i just wanted to let u know that we had a bit of a mishap with the stage curtain down here at the penrose, but everything is ok! so if u hear fire trucks, please don't worry!'"_ He looked back up at Miles, his eyes wide. "Oh my god… I think my daughter burned down a theater!" He started to stand up. "I-I'm sorry, Miles, but I think we should make sure everything is all right!"

"Yes… of course," he agreed, nodding and getting to his feet as well.

"But hey, what were you saying before?" Phoenix asked as they began to make their way down the stairs.

"Oh..." said Miles, still looking disappointed as he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. "...I'll tell you later."

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: An abundance of blooms.

Go listen to All the Wasted Time if you don't know it! Holy crap it's so them!


	3. Flowers

**A/N:** The rewrite has reached 76 pages! Thanks for everyone's support!

Please enjoy this months-late Valentine's Day chapter.

* * *

"So, I guess that proposal was a bust, huh?"

"I was just about to say the words! They were _on the way out of my mouth!_ " he groaned, sinking his forehead into his hands.

Kay looked up at him with sympathy. "So what happened, anyway?" she asked. For some reason, she was choosing to sit on the floor of his office as he sat on the couch, rather than next to him or across from him. Miles didn't question her decisions anymore. It saved him a fair number of headaches.

Miles himself didn't typically sit on his office couches, but in this situation he felt that a little self-pity and indulging in soft cushions was acceptable. He sighed, lifting his head. "We got a text from Trucy. Apparently one of her associates set fire to the stage curtain at the Penrose."

"Holy moly!" she exclaimed, her jade eyes going wide. "Was everything all right?!"

"Yes, of course," he answered. "They actually had a fire bucket ready this time, so the fire was put out fairly quickly… but a stage hand saw the smoke and panicked, and pulled the alarm. So Trucy told us if we heard sirens in that direction, we shouldn't worry."

"But you guys rushed over anyway," she guessed, tilting her head and making the light glint off her key-shaped hair-stick, "because you didn't have all the details."

"Correct," he admitted.

"So… what now?" she asked, sitting her chin on her knees.

"Well, I suppose the first order of business is this." He dug the little red velvet box out of his pocket, and leaned forward to hold it out to her. "Can I trust you to keep it safe?"

She blinked down at his hand in surprise, but extended hers to take the box anyway. "Sure, but… why are you...?" All of a sudden, her eyes went wide, and she actually stumbled to her feet in alarm. "D-Don't tell me… you're not going to give up on asking him, are you?!"

"Wh..." He took a moment to process that. "Of _course_ not!" he finally exclaimed, offended. Once Miles Edgeworth had made up his mind about something, he did not back down, thank you very much.

She laid her free hand over her heart. "Phew… You scared me, there."

"If I was going to give up on asking him, why would I give you the ring for safekeeping?" he inquired, raising an eybrow. "Why would I not simply return it to the jewelry store?"

She smiled a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "Oh… heheh, that does make sense, now that you've said that..." He only rolled his eyes a little bit as she stuck the ring box in the satchel hanging from her hip. "Still, though," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Why do you have to give it back to me? Can't you just try again at another dinner?"

"But this one was _perfect!_ " he complained loudly. His voice had come out a lot more petulant than he'd intended, so he cleared his throat before continuing in a more subdued manner. "The mood was right… the song was playing..."

"So you did find a Broadway song that suited you?"

"Oh… yes," he replied, offhand. "It was from a musical with a plot that was… well, frankly, dreadfully depressing. But the lyrics were… fitting." He rested his hands on his knees and shook his head, trying to bring himself back on-topic. "Anyway, that's not the important part."

"Then what's the important part?" she questioned.

"I believe I have a new plan."

"Oh!" she said enthusiastically, finally coming over to sit on the sofa with him. "Tell me!"

"Well," he started reluctantly, "there is… a certain holiday coming up..." He hated to say it, but it would be just the kind of thing that would work for Wright.

"Ooh! I know!" she said, raising her hand like she was waiting to be called on in class. "Valentine's Day, right?"

"Yes," he said, not able to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Valentine's Day." Truly, not Miles' favorite holiday. He had never paid it any mind, except to sigh in irritation at people who paid it too much mind. In fact, the only way he knew it had arrived every year was the annual shipment of Steel Samurai merchandise from that terrifyingly persistent old woman.

Kay tilted her head at him again. "You just said 'Valentine's Day' the way most people say 'root canal,'" she pointed out.

"Yes, well, at least with a root canal you know what you are getting," he said bitterly, crossing his arms.

"I know what _you're_ getting this year," she said, a smile spreading across her face as she folded her arms in turn.

"Oh really," drawled the Chief Prosecutor, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. He was fairly certain he had never told Kay about the old lady, after all.

"Yes," she said a little smugly as her grin widened. "A fiancé."

He felt his face warm slightly. "Well, we shall see," he said, averting his eyes.

"So, what's your plan for this romantic Valentine's Day proposal?" she prodded him. Miles was convinced she had thrown in both the word 'romantic' and the name 'Valentine's Day' to push his buttons.

"I…" He glared at the floor. "I was thinking I'd give him... flowers?" The idea sounded so stupid by the time he'd gotten to the end of the sentence. Miles had never gotten anyone chocolates, or brought them flowers, or anything of the sort. He hadn't written a valentine since grade school, and even those had been because he'd had to for class.

"Flowers, huh? Sounds nice!"

He shrugged, but secretly he was just a bit pleased that she thought so too. "I just thought he'd be the type to appreciate that kind of thing."

"' _The type_ '?" she repeated, lifting an eyebrow. "You know, you don't have to be a specific kind of person to enjoy getting a gift from someone you love."

The prosecutor flushed a little at that. "Well, yes, but… I just meant… Wright is..." He frowned, and looked down at his knees. "...The kind to not hate Valentine's Day and everything to do with it," he finished in a mutter.

"Oh, you're one of those types that hates Valentine's Day because you always spend it alone?" Kay said bluntly.

Well that hit him right where it hurt. "Nggh," he groaned, his scowl deepening. "I hate Valentine's Day because it is a colossal waste of time!" he barked. "If you're going to show someone you love them, why wait for one particular day a year?!"

The Great Thief tapped her chin, considering his words. "That… actually makes a lot of sense," she conceded.

"Of course it does!" he blustered. "And aside from that, every year the Prosecutor's Office is a mess with people sending each other flowers and chocolates and oversized stuffed animals. The gifts from Klavier Gavin's fans alone flood the reception area and slow down traffic. And on top of all that, everyone is just so obsessed with what you do that day! If you say 'I'm going to enjoy a quiet evening at home with a book' they say 'oh you poor thing; next year will be better.' Why does it have to be better? Maybe I _like_ books! Maybe it's what I do _every_ Friday evening!" His voice had risen more and more until he was practically shouting.

She just stared at him as he panted a little. "Lot of unresolved issues there, huh."

He glared at her. "My _point_ is," he bit out. "Wright is..." Wright. Phoenix. That beautiful, enthralling, perplexing, ridiculous man. "A pushover," he decided. "He grants gifts and favors to people even if they don't deserve them."

"He's nice," Kay rephrased, crossing her arms again. "The word you're looking for is _'nice.'_ "

"Yes, yes," he said, waving her words off. "And he's the type to throw birthday parties and wish on the candles, and keep hideous Christmas sweaters, and hoard terrible Halloween costumes—"

"He gets into the holiday spirit," she corrected him. "Are you sure you love this guy?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped, his hands clenching into fists as he shot her another glare. "More than anything!" He froze. His face heated up. He hadn't meant to go shouting about that particular thing. "I, I… I was caught off guard," he defended himself preemptively.

It was too late. Her eyes were misty and her lower lip was quivering emotionally. " _Awww...!"_

"You tricked me," he accused her lamely. He angled himself away from her.

"All I did was ask a question," said Kay, smirking. "You do realize that soon _everyone_ is going to know you love him if you get married, right?"

"Not everyone!" he refuted, his fingers tightening in the fabric over his knees. "Just the people who know us!"

"Mr. Edgeworth, you'll have a wedding band," she said, pointing to his hand. "Or don't you plan to wear one?"

"I..." He hadn't given it all that much thought. He'd been so focused on Phoenix wearing an engagement ring that he hadn't considered he himself wearing a ring, too. A wedding band, a living symbol of the flawed institution of marriage, on his person, at all times. He wanted to hate the idea. But instead he was thinking of Phoenix wearing one too; of having proof of the promises they would make to each other. His stomach filled with something fluffy and soft, metaphorically. "I plan to wear one," he admitted quietly.

"You need to realize that loving Mr. Wright isn't anything to be ashamed of," she scolded him. "It doesn't make you any less imposing, it doesn't take away the fact that you're Chief Prosecutor, and it doesn't mean you can't still make criminals quake in their boots!"

"You make me sound quite terrifying," he grumbled.

"You are," she agreed cheerfully.

"Nngh," he winced.

Kay giggled. "Don't worry, Mr. Edgeworth. This is a side of you, too. And Mr. Wright loves every side."

He rose from the couch suddenly, his face blazing. "Please don't say such things," he begged, turning away so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"Your vows are gonna be a sight," she mumbled under her breath, but then returned to her usual sunny tone. "Look, everyone's gonna know you love each other, and it's going to be great, okay? And speaking of everyone knowing… have you told Ms. von Karma yet?"

His shoulders stiffened. There was a short silence. "No, not yet," he murmured.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" she said, exasperated. "Why not?"

"Would she be the first person you told any life-changing news?" he demanded, whirling around to her.

"No, but I'm not you," she retaliated flatly. "What's the real reason?"

He hated that she knew him so well. He sighed, his posture slumping a little as he turned on his heel again, starting to pace a little to get his nerves under control. "I'm… concerned she won't approve, all right?"

"Well," said Kay in a matter-of-fact tone, "Are you going to change your mind about wanting to marry him if she doesn't approve?"

He paused a little at that. "No," he admitted.

"Then there you go!" She leaned back and rested her arms over the top of the couch, looking very satisfied with herself. "Anyway, you should probably tell her soon. I have a feeling she would get really mad if she only found out because of next year's Christmas card or something."

Miles cringed. Facing a slighted Franziska von Karma was indeed not a good prospect. She would probably break down his door and demand to know why she hadn't been told of his plans to marry the foolish defense attorney, and why he was sullying the name of von Karma with his spiky-headed foolishness. "I'll tell her soon," he surrendered.

"Hey, she's your family, right?" said Kay.

"Of sorts."

"Then she'll understand!" A pause. "Probably."

He shot her a doubtful look. "Being understanding is not Franziska's strong suit."

"Hehe," she giggled. Miles wasn't sure what part of this was funny. It was probably the part where he got whipped into next month. "Now," said the merciless girl on the couch, suddenly switching gears as she leaned forward and rested her hands on her crossed knees, "you said you were going to give Mr. Wright flowers. Please explain further." She sounded like a professor giving him an essay question.

"Well..." He started up walking the length of the office again. "I thought I'd tell him to go to the Agency to review case notes, and surprise him by waiting there with the flowers."

"Ooh, that sounds good!" She nodded in approval. "He'd probably be really surprised, since you don't often plan nice things like that."

Well that was uncalled for. "I planned the music thing," he reminded her, stopping his pacing to look at her for a moment.

"Once doesn't count as 'often,'" she shot him down.

"Nngh," he winced again.

"Anyway, go on," said Kay, moving her hand in a circular motion to get him to continue. "What kinds of flowers are you thinking?"

"Sunflowers," he said, beginning the pacing again. "And chrysanthemums. They're the flowers represented by our badges. I… I thought it appropriate." He paused, still facing away from her. "I can _feel_ you making that sappy, simpering expression again and I demand that you stop making it."

The Great Thief scoffed. "Sorry, _dad._ Am I not allowed to be happy for you?"

"You are," he told her.

"And am I not allowed to find your thoughtful gestures adorable?"

"No."

"Too bad," she said. "They are, and there's nothing you can do about it." Miles didn't face her, but somehow he knew she was wearing that smug smirk of hers. "Anyway, just the sunflowers and chrysanthemums?"

He finally gave in and turned to face her. "Should there be more?"

She waved her gloved hand, the one where the glove went up to her elbow, around dismissively. "No, if it's just those two symbolic ones you should be okay. I was just thinking, y'know, the Language of Flowers. There's a lot you could say without saying anything."

He blinked. "Language of Flowers? And people still express sentiments in this manner?"

"Well, sure," she shrugged. "Why do you think every birth month has a flower? Why do you think so much thought is put into what goes into a bridal bouquet?"

And here he'd always thought flowers were selected for a bridal bouquet because they were pretty. "I hadn't realized you were such an expert."

"Hehe, I'm not!" she laughed. "I just enjoy my romantic pop culture."

"I see..." Well, he'd already said any number of embarrassing things. Why not keep up the streak? "Do… do you know any flower meanings?..."

"Hmm," she hummed, closing her eyes and tilting her head a little in thought. "I know red roses are passion, and yellow ones mean friendship, and white is purity..." She opened her eyes again and smiled at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I don't actually know all that many..."

He clasped his hands behind him and wondered if he should ask the next question on his mind. He didn't have to wonder for long, though, because it was suddenly escaping. "Is… Is there any flower that means 'Will you marry me?'..."

"You want a flower to do your job for you?!" she said indignantly.

"N-No, I suppose not," he agreed, chagrined.

Still, he set the possibility aside for further examination.

* * *

"So tell me, Nick. Why aren't you and Edgeworth wearing rings yet?" she asked nonchalantly, crunching loudly on some potato chips on the couch across the coffee table.

"Because we're not getting married," he answered for what felt like the fourth time. "Edgeworth isn't a fan of marriage, Maya."

"Hm," she said with the unconvinced tone of someone who has just been told fairies exist. "That's weird. Because from what you just told me, he was definitely going to ask you to marry him."

The pen Phoenix had been holding flew out of his hands and onto the floor. "Wh-What? No way!"

"Oh come _on,_ Nick," she said, setting aside the snack bag, because apparently even she could prioritize some things over food. "He gets you to come to a concert venue all dressed up. He takes you to a secluded, candlelit balcony with wine just for the two of you. And then he serenades you with a Broadway song and _confesses undying love to you?!_ " She flung up her hands. "He was gonna pop the question!"

"I never described it in those terms, so I think you're embellishing a little," he grumbled, embarrassed, but he had to admit to himself that Maya's summation had been pretty accurate. He bent over to retrieve his pen from the floor, and went back to underlining things in this stupid stack of documents. "And besides," he added, "he couldn't have been… about to ask that."

She rolled her eyes theatrically and threw herself against the back of the couch, grabbing the bag of chips again. " _Why_ are you so adamant that that's not what was happening?" she demanded. She pulled out a potato chip and chomped into it with a violence that would suggest the crisp had personally offended her.

"I don't think Edgeworth would want to get married!" he burst out, his grip tightening on the pen. The spirit medium just waited. He sighed. "Look, you remember the Sprocket case," he continued, his voice quieter. "I heard it from his own mouth: 'I'm never getting married.' 'What is so wrong with wishing to remain unwed.' That kind of thing." He slumped, resting his elbows on his knees as he kneaded his forehead. "I just… don't think he'd ever go for it, no matter how much I might wish otherwise..." This felt a little too personal to be saying out loud, but if he couldn't say it to his best friend, who could he say it to?

"Ugh," said Maya, apparently unmoved by the way Phoenix was baring his soul over here. "Look, Nick: for _years,_ you thought he would never want to see your face again, but guess what? He did. Then, you thought he would never come back after he vanished, but he did. And then you thought he'd _never, ever_ want a relationship with you, no matter how much you _pined_ and _pined_ like something out of some Victorian period novel—"

"All right that's enough; you're laying it on a bit thick," he interjected, annoyed.

"I'm just saying," she insisted, "Edgeworth has surprised you before. Maybe this is one of those times." She raised her eyebrows at him before digging around in the chips again. Phoenix wished she'd put them away already. Or at least stop licking her fingers after every handful; that wasn't even her bag of chips. "Besides," she continued, "if you're so certain he'd _never_ want to marry you… I think you're underestimating how committed he is to you."

"I—I would never do that!" he said sharply. "I know he's committed to me! He's.. he's told me so..." His words tapered off, and he bit his lip, staring at the words on the pages in his lap but failing to take in their meaning. He hadn't wanted to let himself start thinking the way Maya was encouraging him to think. His optimistic attitude, his tendency to rush ahead without thinking things through, had led him to getting hurt many times, whether physically or emotionally. He had promised himself that he would let this one thing progress as slowly as it needed to, and he was actually enjoying it. Miles seemed to be too, despite the difficulties he'd had in adjusting. Being in a relationship didn't come easily to him. Sharing his living space didn't, either. What right did Phoenix have to keep selfishly pushing for more? It wouldn't be fair, not after all he was already doing for Phoenix. "Miles and I are happy," he said, more to himself than Maya. "We don't need to get married to have a great relationship."

"Uh, yeah, I _know_ that," said the spirit medium, sounding as if Phoenix had just told her the sky was blue. "But I'm saying that _I think Edgeworth wants to marry you."_ When Phoenix just glared at her, she went on. "Look, I _know_ you guys are happy. But I also know _you._ And if I know you at all… you wanna put a ring on that."

He felt his face getting warmer. "Oh yeah?" he challenged. "What makes you so sure?"

"Nick, please," she said. "You're the kind to want the whole package."

"Whole package?"

"Yeah, you know!" She leaned forward. "Nice job, nice house, loving spouse, white picket fence," she rattled off, counting off each item on her salty fingers.

"I never wanted a picket fence," he mumbled, unable to refute her other claims. "What makes you such an authority on this anyway?"

She looked smug. "I told you before, Nick: I am a Love Expert. I watched all those Khura'inese soap operas, remember?"

"Sure, because those are totally a great representation of healthy relationships," he groused.

"Okay, I concede your point there," she admitted, holding up her hands. She finally rolled up the snack bag—good lord, she'd eaten three-fourths of the bag! "But consider this: you should just ask Mr. Edgeworth about marriage sometime."

He nearly lost his grip on his pen again. "What?!" he squawked, slapping one hand on the cushion not currently loaded up with papers. "Maya, haven't you been listening? I don't want to put him on the spot like that!"

"It's gonna come up sooner or later, Nick!" she told him, flinging up her hands. "Wouldn't you rather find out how he feels about it now instead of having to keep worrying about it years down the line?!"

He stared at her, his brow furrowed. He hated when Maya made more sense than he did. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll _consider_ broaching the subject with him _at some point soon, maybe._ Happy?"

"Usually," she said breezily.

"Are you gonna buy me another bag of chips to make up for the one you decimated?" he sniped at her.

"Nah," said the glutton on the other couch. "I'm taking them as my payment for my sage advice." She smiled at him teasingly. "You're lucky to have me, you know."

Phoenix rolled his eyes at her and went back to underlining things. She was right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

* * *

Miles sat back in his office chair and allowed himself a moment's satisfaction for what he had just accomplished.

After several hours of somewhat unintentional research, he'd ordered the flowers. They were set to arrive at the Agency on Valentine's Day.

First were the white chrysanthemums for truth and loyal love, and then the sunflowers for joy and adoration. Those had been planned from the start. The harder part was choosing other flowers to pad the arrangement (if you could call what he'd ordered "an arrangement"). After much debate, he had settled on alstroemeria, which carried a connotation of _"I trust in our lasting bond"_ ; white and lavender lilacs, which held the meanings of childhood innocence and first love; and honeysuckle, which denoted generous and devoted affection. There were also some red roses, since they were traditional. He'd considered adding ivy or pink hydrangeas, which apparently were used to communicate congratulations of marriage, but the idea of adding in too many subliminal messages was… uncomfortable.

He couldn't believe he'd spent so long looking up flower meanings in the first place. Spending hours listening to Broadway songs had been bad enough last time. Still, it was what a good partner did, wasn't it, wooing their significant other with thoughtful and romantic gestures? Surely Wright would appreciate his efforts. Wouldn't he?

The call to the florist's had been exceedingly awkward, although it had been nice to hear from Ms. Courtney Hampton again. He wondered idly if he'd bought out the Hamptons' entire flower stock. Still, they'd seemed quite pleased to fill his order. If Miles _had_ bought all the flowers, perhaps the people at the Prosecutor's Office would actually have to do work this year, he thought with a bit of vindictive glee.

The other torturous part now was going to be waiting for Valentine's Day. It was less than two weeks away, but every day Miles went without telling Phoenix what was on his mind was another day that Phoenix would find his actions suspicious. Miles hated having to hide things from him like this, but at least this was the sort of thing he was _supposed_ to keep to himself, wasn't it?

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. It was Sunday, and he'd already been here at the office for hours. It was early evening now. He'd better be getting back home.

He smiled to himself. _Home._ He hadn't had one since he was 9 years old. He had _lived_ places, sure, but they had been places to store his belongings and sleep, nothing more. He hadn't returned to them every day because he'd _wanted_ to. But now...

* * *

He swung open the door, wondering if it would be too maudlin to proclaim _"I'm home."_ He settled instead for "I'm back."

"Welcome home," responded Phoenix from where he was sitting on the couch, because Phoenix always understood the things Miles left unsaid. The defense attorney looked over at him, turning his head and putting an arm over the back of the couch to face him better. "Tough day?"

Miles just groaned a little in reply as he hung up his coat. It _had_ been a tough day, even if more than two hours or so of it had been spent researching and then ordering flowers, but he could hardly tell Phoenix about that.

"Sounds rough." Phoenix sounded a little amused. "Wanna watch a movie?" he asked then.

"Movie sounds good," Miles decided. Phoenix patted the couch cushion next to him, so Miles shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it up too, and shuffled over to drop onto the couch next to his partner. He twisted in his seat a little, looking around. "Where's Trucy?"

"At a movie with Pearl," Phoenix replied, leaning up against Miles' shoulder. Miles only tensed up for a moment before relaxing again. He still had to remind himself occasionally that casual touches like this were okay; that being together with him like this was really what Phoenix wanted. It often felt too good to be true. "That's why I thought it was only fair if you and I enjoyed a movie too," Phoenix continued, looking up at him. "So what are you in the mood for?"

His mind was a blank. Honestly, he wasn't much in the mood for anything besides this: having Phoenix next to him, by his side. Saying that aloud would have been both embarrassing and out of character, however. "I, um… w-whatever you'd like," he tried.

Phoenix sat up and eyed him suspiciously. "You're anxious again," he diagnosed, and then crossed his arms. "You know, you never did finish telling me what you were going to say during the concert..."

Miles didn't know how to respond to that. "I..."

"If there's anything wrong, you can tell me." He searched Miles' eyes, but after Miles failed to say anything else for a few more seconds, his shoulders slumped, and he looked disappointed. It hurt to see. "I might not be as good at solving problems as you, Miles, but—"

Miles grabbed his face in his hands and stopped him with a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against Phoenix's gently. Phoenix made a muffled sound of surprise, but returned it nevertheless. "Don't put yourself down," Miles breathed when he pulled away, resting his forehead against his partner's for a moment before releasing him.

"If it gets me a reaction like that, I'm going to do it as often as possible," Phoenix said, smiling at him affectionately.

Miles smirked back, pleased at his success. He'd wanted Phoenix to stop talking negatively about himself, true, but he'd also wanted to draw his attention away from the questions he'd been trying to ask. Valentine's Day was still a ways off, after all.

"So anyway," said Phoenix, settling back against the couch again and picking up the remote to scroll through movie titles. "I was asking you about what you were telling me at the concert?" He gave Miles a small smile that was a little smug. Damn. He knew Miles too well. He was familiar with every one of his distraction techniques. "You know I'm going to find out eventually, right?" he said coaxingly.

Miles sighed. "I can't tell you yet," he said quietly. "But I will soon. I promise. I want to tell you." There. If he couldn't avoid the subject entirely, he could at least put off answering it until later.

The defense attorney studied him for a moment. "Okay, that's cool," he finally said with a shrug. Miles blinked.

"I told you before: I trust you, Miles," his partner said simply. "If you think I'm not ready to hear whatever it is, I believe you."

Miles remained silent, stunned. Phoenix never failed to surprise him, no matter how well he knew him.

"Anyway… want some popcorn?" Phoenix asked next, sitting up.

"No, but I suspect you'll make some anyway and then eat it all yourself," Miles surmised.

Phoenix laughed, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. "You got me," he said, and then rose from the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen.

Miles sat there, staring at the Blu-Ray player's home screen and listening to the popcorn starting to spin and pop in the microwave. Somewhat unexpectedly, they'd fallen into a rather nice mood. He wished he could just blurt out his proposal like Athena had talked about. But he'd spent quite a lot on all those flowers. It would probably be foolish to do that now. Plus he didn't have the ring with him at the moment… no, he supposed he couldn't ask him while they watched television.

Suddenly, there was a bowl of steaming popcorn under his nose. Phoenix was holding it out to him.

"I don't want it," Miles reiterated, looking up at him.

The other man gave him a sly look. "Sure, you say that _now,_ " he said, taking his place on the couch again. "But just try smelling this stuff for a few minutes without taking a bite. It's irresistible." He took a handful and crunched on it quietly, picking up the remote and scrolling through movie titles again.

Miles stared at his knees and considered that. He had thought he didn't want something else, too, until it had been right under his nose and within his reach. What a ridiculous connection to make. Marriage was hardly comparable to a salty snack food…

"You okay?" Phoenix's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine."

His partner sighed and put down the remote and the bowl of popcorn (which was indeed starting to smell very good). "No you're not," he said. There was a brief pause, but then he spoke again. "You know, if you're holding back from telling me something because you think I won't like it..." He shrugged. "You shouldn't." He slumped his shoulders, resting his elbows on his knees and fiddling with his hands in his lap. "I… I love you, Miles, and I want to be here for you, even if _you're_ not here."

"Not here?" Miles echoed, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He bit his lip, looking unsure. "Well, I… I thought maybe you did all that nice stuff at the concert because you had to go overseas for a case or something."

The prosecutor was astonished. "Why ever would you think that?" Miles asked.

Phoenix huffed a nervous sigh, running a hand through his spikes. "I dunno, Miles, maybe because you're a busy Chief Prosecutor with lots of jobs to do?" He laughed, a little uncomfortably, and then looked down at his feet, wearing a smile that was both sad and sweet. "It's okay if you go. I'll still be here when you get back."

Miles cradled both sides of Phoenix's face again, forcing him to look at him. "I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon," he said softly, stroking his thumbs over the other man's cheekbones. He could feel the beginnings of stubble under the soft skin. "And even if I was, I… I'd ask you to go with me."

His face lit up. Miles could feel the smile against his palms. "Really?"

"Really," he repeated, allowing the smile that emerged in response to Phoenix's. "I… I don't want to go anywhere without you again." Phoenix's grin widened, and Miles brought their mouths together in another kiss. His partner made a noise that was almost adorable in its straightforward eagerness, throwing his arms around Miles' neck and angling his head to return the gesture.

When they broke apart, Phoenix was wearing that sappy, starry-eyed expression he often wore whenever Miles initiated any displays of affection. It was the expression one might wear after seeing a litter of puppies, and Miles had no idea how he of all people inspired this reaction. Phoenix's blue eyes were dark, but Miles' attention was drawn to the rings of brown around his pupils for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn't believe it had taken him decades to notice them, because now it was the first thing he saw every time they locked eyes.

"Well, I'm glad you're not leaving," Phoenix whispered. "Because I wouldn't have let you get away anyway, as you may recall."

Miles smiled as he let go of him. "I do recall."

"But you're still not going to tell me what you were going to say at the concert, are you?" Phoenix pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he agreed, bending forward to grab a few pieces of popcorn after all.

Phoenix frowned a little sulkily, but didn't say anything.

* * *

They had ended up watching _Samurai Summer,_ one of Jack Hammer's old films _._ It was still the timeless classic Miles remembered it being. He was as captivated by it as he had been his first viewing: the superb script, the stunning cinematography, the fascinating romantic subtext between the hero and his best friend (though perhaps that had always been Miles projecting onto the character?)… Clearly this was a film meant for careful analysis and multiple viewings. But every time he glanced over at Phoenix to gauge his reaction, the defense attorney's head was either nodding, or turned towards him to stare at Miles instead of the television screen. Miles felt a little bit annoyed that he was failing to appreciate the genius of this movie, but at least he was appreciating Miles, and that counted for something, he supposed.

By the time the movie was over, Phoenix was slumped against his shoulder, snoring softly. Miles didn't dare move too much. He was spared the trouble of worrying about what would happen if he had to use the restroom when the door opened and Trucy stepped in. "I'm home!" she called out cheerfully.

"Huhwha?" stammered Phoenix, sitting bolt upright at the sound of the door closing and wiping his mouth. Fortunately, he hadn't drooled on Miles' sleeve (this time). "Oh, Trucy!" he realized, turning his head to watch her take off her boots beside the door. "How was the movie?"

"It was pretty good, but I liked the book better," she answered with a grin. Her keen blue eyes scanned over the two men on the couch, and her smile turned a little sly. "Did you two have a nice night in?"

"Oh, um, yeah!" said Phoenix. "We watched… uh..." He looked over at Miles for assistance. "Which one was it again?"

He sighed. " _Samurai Summer_ ," he filled in. Clearly such masterful artistry was wasted on this man.

"Right, that one!" Phoenix agreed. He scooted towards the front of the couch, arching his back in a stretch. His spine crackled, and Miles winced. The prosecutor made a mental note to get him to a chiropractor already. "What time is it, anyway?" Phoenix asked with a yawn.

"9:30," Miles reported after a quick glance at his pocket watch.

"Wow, are you tired already, Daddy?" Trucy teased as she padded over to curl up in the armchair next to the couch. "Guess you really are getting older!"

"Hey, I can still do everything I could do 10 years ago," Phoenix protested, though the affectionate smile on his face told Miles that he wasn't really offended. Phoenix turned to his partner. "Tell her, Miles. I've still got it, don't I?" His expression was coaxing.

Miles smirked in return. Phoenix did this all the time, trying to get Miles to say something embarrassing with that persuasive face of his. It worked about 70% of the time, but Miles couldn't be a pushover _all_ the time. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'it,'" he said innocently.

"Aww, come on, Miles, throw me a bone once in a while," said Phoenix, his eyes sparkling with humor. The prosecutor swore that sometimes Phoenix almost seemed to enjoy it more when Miles refused to play along.

"Hmph," said Miles flatly. "I've thrown you enough bones for an entire skeleton."

"Yikes; that's pretty grisly."

Trucy laughed from where she sat with her legs curled under her on the armchair. "I'm glad to see you two joking around like this," she said, her expression soft. "It's…" She bit her lip and looked down briefly before deciding on a descriptor. "...reassuring."

Miles' brow furrowed. What did she mean by _reassuring?_ Had their behavior lately not been so?

Abruptly, he remembered what Kay had called to tell him a week ago: that Trucy had been worried there was something wrong in this household. Miles cursed himself for not thinking about it more. He had been so focused on trying to find the perfect proposal method that he had neglected to consider Trucy's feelings. Did she still think there was a problem between Miles and her father, or Miles and herself? He couldn't let her think that. But how to set her worries to rest?…

Well, he could think of one method. It might be risky… It might even upend his plans entirely… But Kay had been right. Didn't she deserve to know?...

"Papa?" she said, looking concerned. "What's wrong? You're staring."

"Oh," said Miles, coming out of his thoughts. "I… I was just thinking about tomorrow's ride to school." He offered what he hoped was a comforting smile.

Trucy smiled back, so Miles supposed his attempt had been successful. Well, either that, or Trucy was just very kind.

It was probably the latter.

* * *

"You seem tense," she said lightly as she swung the door to Miles' car shut.

"Do I?" he replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"Yup," Trucy confirmed as she fastened her seatbelt. She studied him from the corner of her eye.

He had made a personal vow to tell her this morning, he reminded himself, putting the car in drive. There was no backing out now. He was partially responsible for this child now, and it was up to him to comfort her and set her mind at ease. He had to tell her.

Suddenly, Trucy sighed from the passenger seat. "I thought it was over, but I guess it's not," she mumbled sadly.

He glanced at her in confusion after he'd made a right turn. "Thought what was over?"

"This… this nervousness I feel from you!" she exclaimed, sounding a little frustrated. "I've been feeling it for weeks, and even Daddy's started to seem uneasy now. I thought it was gone last night, but now it's back." She looked him in the face, her own looking unhappy and anxious. "Papa, what's wrong between you and Daddy? Neither of you will talk to me about it." She turned to face the front again, slumping and fiddling with her hands in her lap in a gesture remarkably similar to her father's. "I don't like it… I don't like feeling so worried and uncertain..."

Miles suddenly felt like the worst person on earth for making her worry. "I'm… I'm so sorry if it felt like I was hiding things from you, Trucy. It was not my intention," he started, gently. "But please believe me when I tell you that there is absolutely nothing wrong between your father and me, or you and me." She turned her head towards him questioningly, so he continued. "I have been keeping something inside, but… I don't want you to worry anymore." He had to get it out soon, he thought frantically. The ride to school wasn't all _that_ long, after all. Perhaps he could tell her on the way back from school this afternoon? No; he'd promised himself he'd do it now… He opened his mouth again before he could talk himself out of it. "I will tell you why I've been so anxious," he told her, "but you must _promise_ it will not leave this vehicle." They'd pulled up to a red light, so at least he could offer her his attention briefly.

"I promise!" she said eagerly, leaning towards him and gripping the side of the seat.

"Very well." He took a deep breath. "I… have been trying to ask your father to marry me."

She gasped, and when he glanced over, she had flung her hands over her mouth and her eyes had flown open wide. But the light turned green at that moment, and he had to return his focus to the road. "Oh, Papa..." he heard her murmur shakily next to him. She sounded near tears.

He felt himself start to panic at her tone. Was she appalled after all? Did she think it was too presumptuous to ask Phoenix to marry him? "O-Of course, you have a say in this too," he said hastily, wanting desperately to not be responsible for making Trucy Wright cry. "And if you think I am making a mistake, I will certainly reconsi—" He was cut off by a light swat to his arm, and he looked over at her incredulously.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you," she said sheepishly, but then her eyebrows angled down and she glared at him, putting her fists on her hips even sitting down. "But _how_ could you think I'd be _against_ that?!"

"Er," said Miles awkwardly, not knowing how to answer that. There were a multitude of reasons to not want Miles Edgeworth as a part of one's daily life, in his opinion.

"Papa, there's nothing Daddy and I want more than to have you be part of our family," she said firmly. "I mean, not that you aren't already, but I'm sure Daddy wants it to be official as much as I do! He's been so in love with you for _years!_ I just want you both to be happy."

It was intensely heartening to hear her support, but her honesty was a little overwhelming. "I-If that's how you feel about it… you'll be pleased to know I've already selected a ring..." His face felt hot.

Another gasp, this one accompanied with the sound of her hands clapping together once. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she said. "Do you have a proposal plan?"

"Well," he replied, a little embarrassed to be talking about this with someone who called him _'Papa,'_ "I-I was thinking of attempting to ask him on Valentine's Day this time."

She tilted her head, her chestnut-colored hair spilling over her shoulder. "This time?"

He grimaced. He had said more than he'd meant to. "My first proposal attempt did not go well," he confessed.

They drew to a stop at another light, so he glanced over to see her eyes were wide as saucers again. "You tried to propose _before?!_ "

Well, he had already told her this much. "Yes… on the day of the concert."

"Then what happened?" she prompted. "I know Daddy couldn't have said no!"

He cleared his throat, reluctant to tell her the reason this attempt had not succeeded. "We… got a text about an accident at the Penrose Theater at that moment, so I wasn't able to finish asking him," he admitted.

"Dang it, Bonny!" she said, actually stomping her foot in the car in exasperation. She flung her head against the headrest. "Oh, if only I hadn't sent that stupid text…!"

"On the contrary," he hastened to correct her, "we were quite glad you contacted us. Please don't ever hesitate to keep us informed, Trucy."

Her frustrated look smoothed into a gentle expression, and she regarded him as the car began moving again. "I hope you know you've already been a great dad to me," she told him, her voice affectionate.

Miles' face felt warm again (though his chest felt warm, too). How was he supposed to respond to a statement like that? "Th-Thank you...?" he stammered after a moment. It seemed like the thing to say.

She just smiled at him sweetly. "Thank _you_ for telling me."

He still felt a little flustered. "Yes, well… I trust I can count on your discretion in this matter?"

Trucy snorted. "You sound like a secret agent guy assigning a mission," she said with a giggle. "Of course you can count on me, Papa! I am _not_ going to mess this up for you _twice!_ "

He favored her with a grateful look as they pulled up to the curb at the drop-off spot at the school. "Well, have a good day," he told her as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door.

"Mmhmm!" she responded brightly, hopping out and swinging the door shut again. Miles was about to prepare to leave, but then Trucy rounded the front of the car, coming over to Miles' side, and made a gesture with her arm. It took the prosecutor a moment to understand that she wanted him to open his door.

"Did you forget something?" he asked her after he'd popped the door open.

"Yep," she said, and suddenly there was a teenage girl hugging the life out of him, her arms flung about his shoulders and her head pressed against his neck. "I love you, Papa," she whispered to him. _"We_ love you. I know Daddy will say yes, because you make us both so happy."

Miles had gone very still at first, but after a moment he relaxed against her, a smile spreading soft and warm across his face. His arms came up to embrace her in turn, one hand holding her head against him. "I feel the same."

* * *

Phoenix sat on the couch, wondering if Miles even knew it was Valentine's Day.

He had slipped out without a word this morning before work, and so far there was no indication that anything had been planned to celebrate. Phoenix told himself that he shouldn't be bothered by insignificant stuff like Miles not saying goodbye, but he couldn't help feeling a little neglected, considering what day it was. Then again, he knew Miles wasn't big on the holiday in the first place. He had expressed such contempt for it in previous years that Phoenix had gone against all his romantic instincts and _not_ planned anything huge for today. He had no idea how Miles would react if he staged some grand romantic gesture, after all. He probably wouldn't welcome the distraction.

Whatever uncertainty or troubling situation Miles was dealing with alone, it hadn't appeared to have gone away. He was still dodging Phoenix's questions and being _just_ secretive enough to make Phoenix think something was amiss. He was still affectionate (well, as affectionate as Miles Edgeworth ever was) and considerate towards Phoenix, but Phoenix still felt like there was something off about the prosecutor. At least whatever distance existed between Miles and Trucy seemed to have closed, he thought with a surge of relief. But now _Trucy_ seemed to be hiding something, too, which made Phoenix feel a little left out, frankly. He trusted both his boyfriend and his daughter, but he hated feeling like he was out of the loop.

Despite all this, however, they'd had a relatively normal first two weeks of February. And by normal, Phoenix meant boring. He hadn't had a case in weeks, and he could only make notes on old cases for so long before he started to feel restless. Athena had had a client about a week ago (Phoenix had eagerly offered his assistance. She had won the trial, of course, but that was because Athena had come into her own, not because Phoenix had helped her), but it seemed Phoenix Wright was in a slump. The work just wasn't coming in. Perhaps everyone knew he lived with a prosecutor now, so no one wanted to request him? He grimaced, laying his head over the back of the couch. It was a terrible thought, but not all that far-fetched. Still, if Miles knew something like that was happening, he would feel awful. Phoenix made a mental note to _not_ tell him about this particular worry. Miles would just drive himself crazy feeling guilty about it.

But speaking of people driving themselves crazy, that was what Phoenix was currently doing. All this free time just meant he had more opportunities to ask himself questions he couldn't answer about all this until his head hurt. He'd consulted Maya, of course, but her advice had basically been "ask Edgeworth to marry you" again. And Phoenix wasn't going to do that unless he knew it wouldn't make Miles uncomfortable, even if it took him a year to find out whether it would or not. For now, he resigned himself to more days of intrusive thoughts and questions with no answers.

 _Why didn't he say goodbye this morning?_ was the thought that wouldn't leave him alone today. Phoenix contemplated going for a walk or something to clear his head.

He was startled out of his contemplation by the Steel Samurai theme, his arms windmilling briefly in surprise before he yanked his phone out of his pocket. A glance at the Caller ID revealed that it was his Chief Prosecutor himself.

He pressed the talk button quickly. "Hey, what's up?" he said.

"First of all, I know you are probably wondering why I didn't say goodbye this morning," Miles said in his usual brisk voice. Phoenix smiled. Miles was incredible. "I apologize, but you looked so peaceful, and Trucy—"

"Miles, it's okay," he cut him off. "You're right; I did wonder, but I figured it was something like that. Now, the real reason you called would be…?"

"Right," he said. He sounded kind of nervous, suddenly. "I-I have a favor to ask of you."

Phoenix smirked as he propped his feet on the coffee table (Miles absolutely hated when he did this, so he only did it when the prosecutor wasn't around). "Well, you know I'd never turn down a request from _you,_ " he said in his suavest voice.

"I-Indeed," he responded, and to his delight Miles actually sounded even more flustered. The defense attorney smirked a little wider at his success as Miles continued. "I need you to go down to your Agency and review some case notes."

Ordinarily, Phoenix would have sighed and rolled his eyes at the prospect of such a tedious, menial task, but honestly at the moment he was happy to do anything besides sitting on the couch brooding. "Sure," he agreed quickly. "What kind of case notes? Which case?"

"I'll explain further when you get there," Miles replied, his voice hurried.

He rose to his feet and started towards the coat rack. "Okay then," said Phoenix. "I'll be over there in about five minutes. I'll call you again when I get there."

"Sounds good."

"Anything else you wanna say to me?" he tried hopefully.

"Hm?" said Miles, sounding taken off-guard. "...Oh. Yes. Thank you, Phoenix."

Well, it had been worth a try. "Anytime, Miles," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he hung up.

* * *

He had just closed the door to the Agency, pulling out his phone to call Miles again, when he looked up. The phone promptly fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor as he looked around in shock.

There were flowers all over the backs of the sofas. There were blooms scattered across the piano. There were bundles of color bursting from their magic-prop-turned shelving unit. And standing in the middle of them all, looking intensely uncomfortable, was Miles Edgeworth himself.

"H-Happy… Valentine's Day?" he said haltingly, as if speaking a foreign language for the first time. He was holding flowers too, Phoenix noticed now: a bouquet of sunflowers and… what was the flower on the Prosecutor's Badge? Well, anyway, Phoenix recognized it.

Phoenix turned in a circle, his mouth dropped open in awe. He wanted to say many things to Miles at the moment, but what he blurted out was "How the hell did you get all these in here?"

"Not… quite the reaction I was anticipating," said Miles dryly.

"Well, you tend to get upset if I say you've done something sweet," Phoenix pointed out, kneeling to the ground to retrieve his phone.

Miles smiled. "I'll forgive you today."

Phoenix crossed the room in seconds and swept Miles into his arms. "Thank you, Miles," he said in his ear. "They're beautiful. I mean, I don't know what I'm going to do with them all, but I love them."

Miles wrapped his free arm around Phoenix, returning the embrace. "Yes, well..." he said. "They're not the only thing I wanted to give you..."

There was still _more?_ Phoenix drew back to look at him. "This is crazy," he laughed, holding Miles' face in his hands. "You didn't have to do all this. All I need is you." He searched Miles' gray eyes with his own. The prosecutor's face was almost as red as the roses on the piano. "I was just going to give you an amazing back rub and take you out to dinner or something," Phoenix confessed, and grinned at him. "You totally ran rings around me this time!"

Miles looked a little thrown off, his eyes going wide for a moment. "R-Ran ri…?" he sputtered, his face still red.

"Yeah! You totally outgifted me," Phoenix rephrased. He felt his eyes watering, which was a bit strange. While he was very moved by Miles' gesture, he hadn't expected to be brought to tears by it.

His partner cleared his throat and stepped back from Phoenix. "This is one gift I must insist on giving," he said. He took a deep breath. Phoenix felt a little short of breath, himself. But then, Miles often had that effect on him.

"I told you to come here because I have something to ask you," the other man continued.

Phoenix felt strange—dizzy, a bit lightheaded, and a little… itchy. "Um, well, ask away," he said nevertheless, pulling at his collar.

"Wright," said Miles, and then shook his head, rephrasing. "Phoenix… I have never gotten anyone flowers before. I've never wanted to. But… for the first time, I find myself wanting to celebrate this holiday."

The defense attorney was starting to feel like the room was spinning a bit, and his vision was starting to blur, but he felt like what Miles was saying was very important, so he tried to ignore the sensation. He pulled at the collar around his neck a little more, and nodded for Miles to continue.

"This is our first Valentine's day," the prosecutor said, "but I hope—no, I _know—_ it won't be our last. So, Phoenix..."

Through Phoenix's squinted eyes, Miles appeared to kneel to the ground. Phoenix opened his mouth to ask if he was all right, but instead doubled over and coughed violently. He sank to his own knees, unexpectedly.

"Ph-Phoenix?" Miles said, immediately rising to his feet and placing a hand on Phoenix's back. "What's wrong?!"

"Don't… know," he rasped. "Can't… breathe..." He shook his head. He wanted to add that he would be fine and tell Miles to finish asking whatever he'd been asking, but this point may have been undermined by the fact that he began to fall face-first toward the floor.

"Phoenix!" Miles caught him by the chest, hauling him upright to scan him over frantically. Phoenix's vision was getting hazy, but from what he could see, the other man looked so terrified. It wasn't a face Phoenix wanted to see him wearing. "The flowers..." the prosecutor realized, his eyes going wide. "It must have been the flowers… _damn it!_ " His face twisted in a grimace, and he adjusted Phoenix against himself and pulled out his phone, tapping a few times and holding it to his ear. "I need an ambulance at the Wright Anything Agency on the corner of Central Avenue, across from People Park. We've got a severe anaphylactic reaction..."

"Chrysanthemums," Phoenix choked out, remembering suddenly. This had happened once before when he was a child. He had gotten his mother some chrysanthemums for Mother's Day, but had ended up having a severe reaction to them. "Allergic." He felt the same way he had back then: like his throat was closing up, his lungs being squeezed like a dry sponge, and his tongue taking up way too much space.

"Stay with me, Phoenix; the ambulance is on its way," Miles pleaded, hanging up the phone. "Come on, deep breath!"

Phoenix tried. He really did. He sucked in a rattling breath that made his throat feel like it was on fire, and struggled to keep his eyes trained on the man holding him and looking at him so desperately. But his vision swirled and darkened against his will, and the world went black.

* * *

He woke up staring at a white ceiling, halfway propped up at the waist. He recognized the sensation immediately as being in a hospital bed. An IV was hooked up to his left wrist, and his right hand felt… warm.

He turned his head on his pillow to see Miles sitting in the chair near the bed, his elbows on his knees as he glared at the floor like he could set it ablaze.

Phoenix smiled and squeezed his hand.

Miles' head jolted up. "Thank god," he breathed fervently, scooting the chair closer.

"I once got hit by a car, flew 30 feet into a pole, and only got some bruises," Phoenix reminded him with a lopsided smile. His voice had come out a little scratchy, so he swallowed and cleared his throat before speaking again. "You think a few flowers would take me down?"

"They would have, if you hadn't gotten here in time!" Miles snapped, looking caught between irritation and a sort of agonized relief. "Allergic to to the flower that represents prosecutors… how fitting," he said bitterly then, looking down at their hands.

"I guess you could say you took my breath away," Phoenix quipped, wiggling his eyebrows.

Miles scoffed, but his cheeks went pink anyway. "Only _you_ could say something so stupid in this situation," he muttered.

"Aw, I was being romantic," the defense attorney protested. Miles was still looking tortured, though. "Look, don't worry about it, Miles. How could you have known? I hardly remembered myself." When the other man still didn't say anything, he added, "It was still the best Valentine's Day gift I've ever gotten."

"I would like my gifts to not endanger your life!" Miles responded, shooting him a look. He hung his head a little, staring at his feet. "I… I failed again," he murmured, sounding utterly defeated.

"Failed?" Phoenix repeated, surprised. "No way. I totally got the message. And I love you too."

Miles scanned him for a moment. His expression was conflicted, his brow furrowed and his eyes moving across Phoenix's face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, and merely leaned over to kiss Phoenix on the forehead. "Sleep," he commanded gently.

"Yes sir," Phoenix replied, and drifted off again.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: A quintet of quatrains.

(And yes, I did spend hours looking up flower meanings for this. LOL)


	4. Poetry

**A/N:** Still not really satisfied with the rewrite of the first part of this chapter to be honest. I hope you all enjoy it anyway. ^ ^

* * *

"So what are you going to do now, Papa?" asked Trucy a day later. She had of course been quite dismayed to discover that her father had been in the hospital while she was at school, but she had also been dismayed to find Phoenix's finger without a ring.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. Frankly, after a scare like that, he wasn't exactly eager to try again so soon. The first time he'd asked Phoenix to marry him, there had been a fire, and this time, he'd almost killed him. To think, the man he loved was allergic to the very symbol of Miles' profession… Miles might have taken it for a sign, if he believed in things like that.

"You're blaming yourself again, aren't you," Trucy said shrewdly, crossing her arms in the passenger seat. Miles didn't answer her, so she leaned towards him pointedly. "Daddy doesn't blame you at all, you know. And neither do I."

Miles couldn't very well tell her that he would blame himself no matter what she said, because _he had almost killed his partner with some stupid flowers._ "I'm not sure where to go from here," he said instead. Which was not something he said often, as his vehicle had built-in GPS.

"Well, obviously you just gotta keep trying!" Trucy insisted, smiling brightly. Miles had a feeling she was still so gung-ho about this only because she hadn't been made aware of how close Phoenix had come to crossing the river Styx yesterday.

He sighed. "And I suppose you have a suggestion for me?"

"Hmmm..." She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. "Well, I did arrange that mistletoe kiss at Christmas with my magic," she reminded him. "Maybe I could help you plan a proposal like that!"

"A magic proposal, huh..." He let himself consider it. Trucy would do a wonderful job, he was sure, but wasn't the proposal supposed to be something special that _he_ did for Phoenix? "No... thank you, Trucy, but this is something I should do on my own," he decided.

"Oh," she said, sounding a little disappointed, but as usual her smile was back within moments. "You're right. But let me know if you change your mind!"

"I will," he told her with a quick smile. Miles had to admit to himself that it was not outside the realm of possibility.

* * *

He was just considering going for lunch when Kay called. This was rather unexpected, as he had just seen Kay the night before to give her back the ring until he had a new plan in place. He picked up, wondering what news she could possibly have in so short a time.

"Mr. Edgeworth, please don't be mad at me," she said at once, her tone pleading.

Miles felt dread settle around him like an icy fog. "What have you done, Kay."

"I-I can't say no to her little face!" said Kay. "She's just, so _innocent,_ and before you know it you've—"

"Kay, you should know by now that I cannot read your mind," he interjected, resting his elbows on his desk and kneading the space between his eyes. He was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache already.

"R-Right, sorry," said the Great Thief. "Um, I hung out with Pearl today. And we got talking about, y'know, club activities—"

"I presume you are referring to your matchmaking alliance?" the prosecutor interrupted.

"Yeah," said Kay, a little timidly. "And… And Pearl said something about 'Won't their wedding be romantic' and… and I said 'Who told you' and she said 'Told me what' and…!" She trailed off into a squeak. Miles was about to tell her to get on with it, but she found the words before he could: "And I said 'That Mr. Edgeworth wants to marry Mr. Wright' and I'm really, _really_ sorry I told her _I didn't mean to!_ "

The words had come out in a jumbled stream, so it took the prosecutor a moment to process what she'd said. When he did, though… "You _what,_ " he said dangerously.

"I didn't say anything about the ring or how you planned to propose or anything!" she said, her voice rising in pitch with her desperation. "I just said that one little innocent 'who told you' and, and you know how Pearl is! She just… latched onto the idea! She kept asking me stuff until it was pointless to hide it!" Indeed, that did sound like the young spirit medium. She was quite tenacious, despite her polite demeanor, and highly invested in the relationship between himself and Phoenix for reasons Miles had never managed to ascertain.

He felt irritation prickling away in his chest, but forced the feelings down, because that was what Miles Edgeworth did best. True, Kay had indeed messed up, but she hadn't really said all _that_ much. Miles had suffered worse indiscretion before. This was not the end of the world. "Thank you for telling me," he said, but the words came out in an unconvincing monotone.

She made a noise halfway between a groan and a whimper. "I knew it; you're really angry!"

"I am," he admitted, "but I can't say this is something I never expected to happen."

"Ouch," said Kay mournfully.

He raised an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair a little. "Do you deny the allegation?"

"No," said Kay sadly, "I guess not..."

"I still want you to keep my ring for me," Miles told her then.

"R… Really?..." The Great Thief sounded incredulous. "Wow… that's… so nice of you, Mr. Edgeworth!" She sounded ready to cry with gratitude. "I-I won't let you down again, I promise!"

Miles didn't have the heart to tell her that he only wanted her to keep it because he had no one else to do it. Perhaps he was going soft.

"I suppose I'd better prepare myself for the inevitable onslaught of curious questions from our young friend," he continued, trying to make his tone a bit lighter. As annoyed as Miles was with her, he didn't want to hear her sounding sad anymore.

"Yeah, maybe..." Kay agreed sheepishly, and then laughed a little. Miles supposed he had been successful in brightening the mood, which was probably a first. "Oh, but speaking of onslaughts and curious questions," she tacked on suddenly, "Have you told Ms. von Karma about your intentions yet?"

He cringed. "No..."

"Mr. Edgeworth!" she reprimanded. How did she go so effortlessly from groveling for his forgiveness to scolding him?

"I know, I know!" he said loudly. The truth was that he had picked up the phone a number of times to call her, but had always backed out at the last second. He justified it to himself by reasoning that he didn't fancy getting yelled at over the phone, but Miles knew he was just delaying the inevitable. "I've been asking around, all right? I found out she's flying into LA in two days to gather evidence for an Interpol case. I'll find her at the airport and tell her then. I promise."

"I'll hold you to it!" she said.

Miles didn't doubt it.

* * *

He had just sat down with his tea across the street when his phone rang again. He glanced at the Caller ID, and his suspicion was confirmed. He pressed the talk button and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" said a familiar girlish voice. "Is this Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Hello, Pearls," he said mildly, lifting the teacup to his lips and sipping. It was Ceylon tea, one of Miles' favorites.

"Oh!" she said. "So you could tell it was me..." She sounded a little flighty. Pearl didn't seem like the type to be comfortable on the phone, so Miles was a bit surprised she'd chosen this method of contact. Miles had expected her to come barreling into his office and interrogating him for all the details of his proposal.

"Was there anything you wanted to talk about?" the prosecutor prompted her, figuring that he might as well get it out of the way. He set down the teacup again, watching the steam rise from it and swirl in the air.

"Um, well…!" Pearls started. "I-I heard something very interesting this morning!"

"Yes, Kay may have revealed a certain something. I've heard."

"Oh!" she squeaked again. "Well, as long as you know what I'm calling about..." She hesitated. Miles could almost see the way she'd be fiddling with the hem of her yukata and biting her thumb. He let her gather her courage. "Is… is it true?!" she finally asked the pressing question.

"Yes," he said simply. No point in denying it now.

She made a sound like a dog toy being squeezed. "That's lovely!" she said, her voice shaking with excitement. "Congratulations!"

Why did everyone skip straight to assuming Wright had already said yes? "I haven't asked him yet," he said for what felt like the hundredth time, taking another sip of tea.

"Well, yes, but… deciding to ask someone to marry you..." Miles heard her sigh dreamily. "That's its own sort of accomplishment, isn't it?"

Pearls occasionally said things like this that revealed that she was much wiser than her innocent appearance would suggest, but it was still always something of a surprise to Miles when it happened. "I… I suppose," he conceded, staring into his teacup. His glasses began to fog up from the steam, so he took them off and stuck them in his pocket.

"Anyway, I…!" the little spirit medium said then. Ah, here they came: the inevitable invasive questions. "If, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know!" Miles blinked. That hadn't been what he'd been expecting at all. "I know I'm not good at much besides spirit channeling, but..." Here she paused. Miles knew Pearls was somewhat sensitive about that, so he didn't say anything. "I-I'm willing to do whatever I can to make this happen!" she finished at last, her timid voice full of determination.

He felt his heart soften a little at the earnest offer. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "but all I really need for you to do right now is to keep this a secret."

"Well of course!" she chirped. "I assumed that went without saying! Um, have you decided how you're going to ask yet? I think poetry is very romantic! And you're so good with your words in court, Mr. Edgeworth; I'm certain you'd write lovely poetry!" She seemed to have lost her shy demeanor, suddenly. She was in Romance Mode now. At least, that was the only reason he could think of for why anyone would suggest that Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth write love poetry.

"Thank you, Pearls, but I've already decided on a course of action," he told her. This was a lie, but it was to spare her feelings, wasn't it?

"Oh..." She sounded more subdued again. "Of course. I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be bossy or presumptuous..."

"You weren't," he assured her. "It was a very nice suggestion, Pearl. Nevertheless, I will proceed in the manner I have decided upon." Whatever that was. "I hope you understand."

"Oh, I do!" she said earnestly. "I know it's important for you to do this in a way that is uniquely you! I'm sure that when the time comes, you'll know!"

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Thank you for your support," he said, and drained his teacup. "I've got to be getting back to work now, but it was nice to hear from you."

"You as well, Mr. Edgeworth!" said Pearls brightly. "I wish you a pleasant day, and the best of luck on the ambitious task ahead!"

He smiled again at her sophisticated wording. "You have a pleasant day as well, Pearl," Miles said graciously. "Goodbye for now."

He returned to the office feeling strangely hopeful. It was nice to hear encouragement, even from unexpected sources.

* * *

There was nothing quite like a life-threatening allergy attack to make you realize what was important, Phoenix thought as he walked around the block. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Miles had been about to say something monumental. Something totally life-changing. Something absolutely extraordinary. He told himself again to not jump to conclusions, but his heart wasn't listening. For a moment back there, his optimistic side whispered in his ear, it had sounded very much like Miles was trying to…

He shook the thought out of his head. No, surely that couldn't be it. Or rather, he wouldn't be able to bear it if he started to think that _had_ been it, and then found out he was wrong.

But briefly thinking he was about to die had made him realize that he couldn't let any more of their time go to waste.

Which was why he had come to a stop outside a jewelry store.

He gazed into the lavish interior, at the expensive glass cases and the elegant rococo light fixtures. It reminded Phoenix of the Gatewater Imperial Hotel they had held the Hero of Heroes Grand Prix in, all those years ago. Even the floor looked too fancy for Phoenix to be allowed on.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection on the glass. Even with the addition of the classy navy coat Miles had gotten him for a late Christmas present, he still looked less than refined. He'd forgotten to shave this morning, he noted, and his hair was a bit unkempt. His slightly disheveled appearance looked downright comical next to the glamorous interior of this jewelry store. If someone who looked like Phoenix tried walking into such a ritzy place, he'd probably get laughed right out the front door.

His eyes were drawn to the pieces of jewelry themselves. Even from here he could see how they glinted under the lights. How much were you supposed to spend on those things, anyway? He'd heard three months' salary, but honestly, it wasn't like Phoenix had a consistent source of income. The job was slow sometimes, especially lately. What would Miles think if Phoenix had to borrow money from his own daughter to buy him an engagement ring? He almost snorted at the thought.

Phoenix decided that staring in at this place was only torturing himself, and turned on his heel to walk away, tucking his hands down into the pockets of his coat. It was almost lunch time, he reasoned, and he was getting hungry.

But no matter how much he tried to fill his thoughts with lunch as he turned the corner, they kept coming back to his dilemma. How was an average guy like himself supposed to get Miles the ring he deserved? He had no experience with picking out jewelry anyway. And, he thought a little bitterly, kicking a pebble, it wasn't like he was rolling in dough, either. Just because he lived in a place with a big television and two bathrooms didn't mean he was suddenly making more money.

Well, said his optimistic side, Miles knew how he felt. Surely he could just… ask, sometime. Miles wasn't the type to care about what kind of ring Phoenix got, or if he got one at all, right?

Oh, who was he kidding. The man definitely appreciated the finer things in life. Even his pajamas were fancy, all silky and smooth to the touch.

Still, maybe he could pop the question, and then they could go pick out a ring for Miles together. That way he would be sure to get what he wanted.

What he wanted…

Phoenix frowned and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders slumping as he stared at his feet as he walked. How could he say for certain what Miles wanted? As long as Phoenix had known him, as long as they had been good friends (or more), Miles still managed to surprise him. Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was an enigma. That made him fascinating and fun to be around, but it also made him frustratingly hard to read sometimes. Thus far, Phoenix had zero evidence that Miles had changed his stance on marriage. How could he suddenly ambush him with a marriage proposal, when the last thing he'd heard Miles say about marriage was "I have no plans to get married"? Although, now that he thought about it again, at least two other people in the room at that time had then indicated that Miles might have been hiding the truth about that. See? Enigma!

"Boss?" said a familiar voice suddenly. His head jerked up to see Athena standing there, dressed in a yellow sweater and light blue leg warmers. A large pair of blue headphones crowned her head, but she pulled them down around her neck as she approached him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Walking," he shrugged. "What about you?"

"Running!" she answered with a grin. _It must be nice to have that kind of youthful energy,_ Phoenix thought, and then scolded himself for thinking like an old man. "I tried to go into work this morning," his young protegé continued, "but there were some guys there putting stuff into plastic bags, and they told me I couldn't go in!" She rested her fists on her hips, looking incensed. "Can you believe that? My own office! What's up with that, huh?"

Phoenix cringed. "Ah… that would probably be my fault," he admitted.

She eyed him for a second. "I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that a little, Boss," she pressed him.

He sighed, and jerked his head to the side, indicating that she should walk with him. She nodded and fell into step beside him (her steps were a lot livelier). "Edgeworth got me flowers yesterday," he explained.

She and Widget both lit up. "Aww, that's so sweet! What type?" she asked eagerly.

He grimaced. His face felt hot. "Um, I couldn't identify most of them…" He looked away from her and cleared his throat, trailing off into a mumble. "There were too many to name..."

"Too many to name?" she repeated, as if Phoenix had spoken at normal volume. Oh, right. Super hearing.

"He'd filled almost the entire Agency with them," he decided to tell her, though his cheeks burned.

She stumbled, seemingly over nothing, and gaped up at him in awe. "Whoa! That's unexpectedly romantic!"

Phoenix was considering unbuttoning his coat, because he was suddenly feeling too warm in it. "Yeah, it was great, until..."

She leaned forward, tilting her head sideways to look up at him. "Untillll…?"

"Until I started having a severe allergic reaction to the chrysanthemums and had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance," he finally finished the humiliating story.

"Whoa, hold up!" Athena exclaimed, stopping Phoenix by grabbing his arm with both hands. Widget, who looked like a little teddy bear face today, had turned yellow, as if he too were telling Phoenix to slow down. "Boss, you were in the _hospital?!_ " Athena said incredulously. She gave his arm a little shake. "Why didn't anyone tell me?!"

He scratched his head, feeling a little sheepish. "Well, I was kind of busy being unconscious for a while," he muttered, "and then when they said I could go, we just picked up Trucy from school and went home because we'd had enough excitement for one day."

"Aw, mannnn…!" Athena moaned, hanging her head. "And I was so _bored_ yesterday…!"

He shot her a smile as they started off walking again. "What, you mean you didn't have lovelorn suitors breaking down your door?" he teased her.

Her cheeks went pink. "You don't have to rub it in," she mumbled, petting her ponytail a little. "Simon brought me chocolates yesterday and I was really happy, but then he said they were gifts he'd gotten from his admirers, and that _he_ didn't want them so _I_ might as well take them!" She looked up at him, her expression one of abject outrage. "Can you believe that?! He gave me secondhand, throwaway chocolate!" She clenched her hands into melodramatic fists up by her collar bones. "How cruel…!"

Phoenix had a hunch that Blackquill hadn't actually gotten the chocolates from admirers, and had in fact just said that to push Athena's buttons, but somehow he didn't feel compelled to voice his theory. "Well, it's unconventional, I'll say that much," he remarked.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping, but then straightened back up, wearing her customary sunny smile. "Well, at least Junie, Trucy, Kay, and Ariadne texted me Happy Valentine's. That's good enough for me."

"Mm," he responded noncommittally.

"So," said the girl at his side, "where are we going, Boss?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. " _I'm_ going home. I'm not sure where you're going."

"Aw, you mean you're not gonna invite me over?" said Athena, sticking out her lower lip. "I still haven't seen the new place, you know."

"Hmm," he said, "that's true." He considered it for a moment, then nodded. "All right, come on over if you want to. But it'll be boring, because Trucy's at school and Mi—Edgeworth's at work," he corrected himself quickly.

"You can call him by his first name in front of me, you know," she reminded him. "It's not like I won't know who you're talking about."

Phoenix pulled his coat collar up over the sides of his face, his face heating up again. "I-I know," he said. "It just… feels too private."

Athena just rolled her eyes and smiled.

* * *

"So, he'd filled the entire Agency with flowers, huh?" said Athena as Phoenix set down the plate in front of her. Somehow he'd ended up making her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich too after he'd given her the tour of the place. "That's unusual. I bet it was a bit of a shock!"

"I was pretty surprised," he agreed, pulling out his chair at the table and sitting down to enjoy his own sandwich. "And according to him, that wasn't even all he had to give me."

"It wasn't?" She looked like she wanted to ask him about 500 more questions, and was trying to decide which 5 would annoy him the least. "Well, what was it?" she pressed him, biting into her sandwich. "Did he ever give it to you?"

"No," he answered, "I guess not..." Come to think of it, that _was_ a little strange. Phoenix had been so caught up in thinking about what Miles hadn't gotten to _ask_ him that he hadn't given much thought to what Miles hadn't gotten to _give_ him. It probably had to do with whatever he was going to ask, though. Maybe it was the keys to a car, Phoenix thought, and Miles was going to ask him if he would please, _please_ learn to drive already. He repressed a laugh at the thought. "And he even said it was a gift he insisted on giving, too," he murmured under his breath, resting his elbows on the table.

"Infift'd?" Miss Magic Ears echoed with her mouth full. Darn. He really had to stop forgetting about Athena's special power. She swallowed the huge bite of sandwich, enabling her to speak clearly again. "What do you mean, something he insisted on giving?"

"If I knew what it meant, I'd tell you," he replied, shrugging.

She looked as if there were some words inside her that desperately wanted to escape, and she was only containing them with sheer willpower. "And… you think this thing he wanted to give you was related to what he was going to ask?..."

He didn't remember saying that out loud. "Uh..." He bit into his peanut butter and jelly to avoid answering. Ahh, the sweetness of the grape jelly mingling with the smooth creaminess of the peanut butter. The classic lunch would never get old, in his opinion.

Athena was staring at him intently as she ate, her eyes asking hundreds of questions again. "What exactly did he say when he gave you the flowers?"

He briefly considered telling her "none of your business," but she looked so hopeful that he just sighed and spilled the beans. "I dunno, something like ' _I wanted to ask you something_ ' and ' _I've never wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day before_ ' and ' _this is our first Valentine's Day together but not our last._ '" He was surprised he was actually talking about it. He chalked it up to the facts that he was a) eating comfort food and b) talking to someone who was basically a professional shrink.

The professional shrink did not look very professional at the moment, however. She looked misty-eyed and emotional, and she sniffled loudly. "That's so romantic!" she sighed.

Phoenix felt the blush on his face again. "Yeah, well, Edgeworth would kill me if he knew I was telling you any of this, so don't go spreading it around," he muttered.

Despite Phoenix's life being on the line, Athena looked eager for him to continue, her eyes gleaming as she leaned forward across the table, gripping it with both hands. "And after that?!"

Phoenix gave her a suspicious look. "After that, it was mostly ' _hold on, Phoenix_ ' and ' _these damn flowers,_ ' because that was when I collapsed."

Athena's shoulders slumped. She looked disappointed, for some reason. "Poor Mr. Edgeworth," she murmured, staring down at her half-eaten sandwich.

He made an offended noise. "'Poor Mr. Edgeworth'?! _I'm_ the one who almost suffered Death by Flowers!"

She cringed, and sucked in a breath through her teeth. "It was pretty bad, huh."

"Not an experience I'd repeat, anyway," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. Well, at least he wasn't allergic to peanuts, he thought.

"Still," Athena said. "He didn't ever talk about the other gift again?" She bit her lip, looking conflicted. "That's too bad..."

He looked at her strangely. "What do you mean?"

Athena seemed taken off-guard, if her fumbling her PB and J as she raised it to her mouth was any indication. "N-Nothing! I just meant, well, having his thoughtful gesture backfire like that… it must have been a blow to his pride, right?..."

He considered that for a second. True, Miles was the type to react to such circumstances with a " _this is why I don't do nice things_ " attitude. "I told him it was the best Valentine's Day gift I'd ever gotten, but he still seemed really upset," he confessed.

"Well of course he was! He didn't get to..." She cut herself off, snapping her mouth shut and looking tortured again.

"He didn't get to _what?_ " He crossed his arms. "You seem to have a lot of thoughts on this..."

She flapped her mouth a few times, then averted her gaze. "I… I wish he'd gotten to give you that other present, that's all…" Her eyes were darting around, and she drummed her fingertips on the table anxiously.

Phoenix watched her for a while then, saying nothing as she polished off her peanut butter and jelly. "You know… it's almost like you _know_ what the other gift was..." he finally said, slowly.

"What?!" she squeaked in a voice about an octave higher than usual. She waved her hand around in an imitation of nonchalance. "Pfffft, _noooo!_ Don't be ridiculous!"

Despite her words and her forced laughter, however, Phoenix was pretty sure it wasn't ridiculous. "Athena," he said in a warning tone. "Are you keeping something from me?" It was times like these he had to bring out the Boss Voice, which was like the Dad Voice but which carried with it more of an air of " _I'll be evaluating your pay_ " rather than " _I could totally ground you._ "

"N-No!" she assured him, leaning over the table fervently. Her hands clenched into fists. Phoenix held her gaze, but she wouldn't blink. "I, I don't even know for sure; it's just a theory," she said firmly, and then sat up straight again, crossing her arms. "I'm not going to talk about this."

"She's about to crack!" Widget chimed in gleefully.

"Ugh, _Widget!_ I am not!" she protested, looking down at her pendant. She turned her determined gaze back onto Phoenix again. "I can't tell you anything about this." Her blue eyes were full of fire. "Please respect that!"

Phoenix frowned at her. If Athena wasn't going to tell him anything, he wouldn't make her, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He remained sulkily quiet as he finished his lunch, wondering how he could coax her to open up. It wasn't usually his style to try to leverage information out of people for non-court-related reasons, but this was about his partner, dammit! Didn't he deserve to know? Well, if she wouldn't talk on her own, maybe _he_ would. He'd tell her something so personal and revealing that she'd _have_ to talk!

At least, that's what he told himself to justify it. In actuality, he just really wanted to get this off his chest.

His hands curled into fists on either side of his plate. "I want to marry Edgeworth," he confessed.

Athena choked, which was strange, since she'd already finished her sandwich and there was nothing left for her to choke on. "Wh—! Wh—!" she spluttered, sounding sort of like a small dog woofing. "When?!"

Phoenix blinked at her, nonplussed. That was not the first question he'd been expecting. "Uh, as soon as possible, ideally?..."

"No no no," she said, waving her hands around. "I mean, when did you… discover this?!"

"Oh, um..." He wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He had probably wanted to marry Miles since before he truly understood what a big commitment marriage was. Hell, maybe he'd wanted to marry Miles since before he could reliably _spell_ 'marriage,' if you thought of marriage as just 'staying with someone forever.' "A while ago," he finally got out, rubbing the back of his head. "Like… a _really long_ while ago..."

"A long while ago?" she repeated, her brows furrowing. "Like, how long?"

He offered a flash of a bashful smile. "Like, I think maybe I've kinda _always_ wanted to marry him…?"

"Always? But..." She looked positively baffled. She opened her mouth to speak again, but then closed it, crossing her arms and studying him for a minute before her expression smoothed out into one of mild realization. "But no one's asked anyone yet," she said slowly, sitting back against her chair, her manner suddenly more subdued.

"No," he sighed, poking at the crumbs on his plate. "I want to ask him, but I don't know if he's even interested in getting married. He always said he didn't want to."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," she said immediately, as if Phoenix had just told her he was very afraid of a monster under his bed.

He lifted his eyes back to meet hers, a little annoyed that no one seemed to be taking his worries seriously. "Look, I appreciate you believing in me—in us—but you guys don't know him like I do," he said. "He's so stubborn, and he sticks to his guns. I don't think he'd change his mind about this." He felt his shoulders sag a little.

Athena hummed thoughtfully, tapping her earring. "Mr. Edgeworth _is_ stubborn, but he's not immovable," she said. "He wouldn't be a very effective lawyer, let alone Chief Prosecutor, if he couldn't adjust the way he thinks about things."

Phoenix raised his eyebrows in surprise. _That's unexpectedly sensible,_ he thought.

"Hey!" she said sharply, crossing her arms. "What's with that ' _That's unexpectedly sensible'_ look?! I am a competent adult and the things I say make sense at least 80% of the time!"

Phoenix winced. Scary. He would have to watch what he thought around her, he supposed. "N-No, I just thought it was really observant of you," he placated her.

"Oh," she replied, mollified. "Well, thank you. And seriously, I think you should keep in mind how many times you've already changed Mr. Edgeworth's mind about things." She gave him a wink and a smile. "He always seems more willing to be flexible with his thinking when it comes to you!"

"So…" He sat back and regarded her for a minute. "Do you think I should just… pop the question to him, then?" He still didn't feel entirely comfortable with the idea, but it couldn't hurt to gather opinions on it.

Her expression changed almost imperceptibly, her smile becoming more of a grimace. "Welllll," she said, her voice high-pitched and doubtful. Widget had suddenly turned blue. "I-I don't know if that's the best thing to do just yet..."

The defense attorney frowned at her. He hadn't been planning on just asking Miles to marry him out of nowhere, but somehow hearing Athena say she didn't think it was a good idea almost made him want to try it. "Why not?"

"Because…!" She cut herself off, tapping her earring again to give herself time to think. Her mouth quirked over to one side as she thought, but before long, she was just giving him a mysterious smile again. "Look, just… I think Mr. Edgeworth is capable of more change than you think. And… maybe you should kinda… give that a little bit of thought?"

If she was trying to be a cryptic relationship guru, she was doing a really infuriating job of it, Phoenix thought. "Are you trying to say I should really think about whether I want to marry him?" Phoenix's voice came out a little defensive. "Because I assure you, I've given it plenty of thought, and I don't have to think about it anymore."

She shook her head, her smile widening. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I just meant… well, who knows what could happen? Give it a little time. Trust me."

He looked at her blankly for a moment, but soon gave up on trying to decode that. "Okay," he admitted defeat. "Do you want a glass of milk?"

"Yes please!" she sang. Phoenix rose from the table and made his way over to the fridge.

* * *

Two days after Pearl's suggestion, Miles stared down at yet another failed attempt. Why in the world was he trying to write poetry three days _after_ Valentine's Day, anyway? He read over the lines on the page, the ink still drying:

 _You are sunshine.  
You are light.  
Sometimes annoying,  
But always Wright._

He made a disgusted scoff and balled up that one too, throwing it in the trash where it belonged with all the others. It bounced out of the bin, which was overflowing with rejected quatrains, and lay at its base, as if trying to escape its fate. Glowering at this paper which had dared to defy him, the prosecutor bent over and gathered up the unruly scrap, and crammed it into the trash decisively with probably slightly more force than was necessary. Why was arranging words into patterns proving so difficult for him? Words ordinarily worked very much in his favor. He felt a little betrayed, honestly.

Miles glanced over at the side of his desk, where another pair of stanzas still sat.

 _You smile in the face  
Of certain defeat.  
You beat me at Scrabble.  
I'm convinced that you cheat._

 _I can't figure out  
Your ridiculous hair.  
You snore, and yet still  
I'm glad you are there._

Why did they all turn into complaints? Granted, they were somewhat affectionate complaints, but if he was going to propose to Wright, shouldn't the poem he wrote him be an ode to all the things he adored about the man? He had been writing emotional things about Phoenix in his journals for years, but they were for his own eyes only (well, save for a certain Great Thief with no regard for his privacy), and he had never had to worry about what they looked like on the page. He had always just let them fall however they may. But to create something that was both heartfelt and truthful _and_ aesthetically and aurally pleasing? Miles was beginning to think it was impossible. He crushed those other failures into a ball and tossed them in the bin, too.

Only three stanzas had escaped being viciously crumpled up thus far. He pulled the paper closer to himself and read over them again:

 _You laugh too loud.  
You love too deep.  
When the gaps are too wide,  
You still take the leap._

Though so much may change  
Our bond endures;  
Now, my life and my love  
And my heart are all yours.

 _My life without you  
Is a bore, I'll confess.  
So I'm asking you something  
And I hope you'll say yes._

He felt his face twist into a rueful expression, his cheeks heating up. It sounded like a note a schoolboy might pass to his crush. And besides that, the first stanza was ungrammatical; it should have, of course, been "loudly" and "deeply," ruined rhyme scheme or no. He gathered that paper into his hands in preparation to discard it as well, but then found himself scanning the words again. And rereading. And staring.

He sighed, resigned, and rose from his chair, striding over to his bookshelf. He really was getting too sentimental. From the top shelf he pulled down a small leather-bound notebook, and, folding the paper with the poems into fourths, slipped it between two of the pages. At least only he would know of their existence now, he thought. He thumbed through the pages of the journal absently, thinking how he would have to start a new one soon, since this one was almost out of paper.

Against his better judgment, he flipped to some of the more recent journal entries, his eyes resting on them.

 _Friday, 12 January. Phoenix made me breakfast this morning. He burned the eggs. I ate every bit anyway._

 _Monday, 15 January. He sings in the shower. He has a lovely tenor, but an absolutely atrocious soprano._

 _Tuesday, 16 January. I could listen to him sing in there for hours. Which is quite possible, as he takes absurdly long showers._

 _Saturday, 20 January. Requested Phoenix's assistance when Trucy fell asleep sprawled across my lap after movie night. He instead took eight pictures with my phone. I only kept two of them._

 _Thursday, 25 January. Despite my discouragement, Phoenix has been trying to find out where I am ticklish. He was delighted to discover it upon poking me behind the knee, until I inadvertently kicked him in the nose. It bled. He claims it was worth it._

The Chief Prosecutor was absolutely _not_ smiling sappily when he closed the journal again and set it back on its shelf.

He'd dispensed with referring to Phoenix by his initial in his entries, of late. It seemed pointless now to refer to his partner with any kind of code, as his affections were no longer a closely-guarded secret.

Well, they were no longer a secret, anyway.

And speaking of secrets, the occasion had come to reveal a certain one to a particular person.

Miles checked his pocket watch one more time, and decided it was time to go to the airport.

* * *

He spotted her retrieving her luggage from the baggage claim carousel. She was scowling, since that was one of her two default expressions (the other was a pompous smile). In any case, she didn't appear to be in the best of moods. Perhaps the case she was working was taking a toll on her? Or maybe the luggage was just very heavy. It wouldn't be surprising, for a woman of Franziska's petite stature. She was only here for a day or two to pick up evidence, so he had to be quick about this, he reminded himself.

"Franziska," he said when he'd finally reached her.

She whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, took one look at him, and immediately said "Ugh," which Miles thought was a bit rude considering they hadn't seen each other in over a year. "Miles Edgeworth," she said then. She looked tired, slight circles under her eyes.

"How are you?" he asked politely, thinking that he ought to try putting her in a better mood.

This was unsuccessful, as her frown merely deepened. "Busy, unlike a certain Chief Prosecutor, as it would seem. What are you doing here?"

He huffed a short laugh. "I missed you too."

She scoffed as she extended the handle of her luggage. "Hmph! I will not waste time with pleasantries." She raised an eyebrow. "You are not the type to do so either."

Well, she had him there. "Very well then," he conceded, bowing his head slightly. "I shall get straight to the point."

"As you should have from the start," she said loftily, but she apparently didn't intend to stand around and let Miles talk, because she took hold of her luggage and began dragging it behind her. After a moment of confused hesitance, Miles followed her, attempting to keep up with her brisk gait. Her luggage rattled across the tiled floor, but the sounds of her authoritative footsteps were even louder. Franziska had never been heavy at all, but she'd always walked loudly. It was most likely intended to appear confident and bold, but to Miles, who had known her since she was a child, it came across more like she was constantly stomping around in a tantrum.

"Well," Miles began a bit awkwardly as he trailed after her. He hadn't planned on having this conversation on the move. "You see, I—" He narrowly avoided colliding with two children who were chasing one another around the airport. "I've come to a decision—" He stepped out of the way of a large family shuffling by and speaking in what sounded like Borginian. "—A decision regarding my life—" Miles struggled to keep close behind her, amazed at the way she was able to weave around all these people but unable to do the same. "Franziska, please!" he finally said, reaching out to grasp her jeweled cuff.

She finally stopped, and slowly turned to glare at him icily. The prosecutor released her hastily and took two respectful steps back. "What is it," she prompted him. It wasn't a question.

"W-Well, I…" With those piercing steel-blue eyes on him, suddenly he was finding the words more difficult. "Er..."

She sighed noisily and rested one gloved hand on her hip. "Were you not taught to speak clearly?" she scolded him. "You disgrace our upbringing, little brother. Now, out with it!"

"I want to ask Phoenix Wright to marry me!" he yelled suddenly.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence (or what passed for silence in this crowded airport). Franziska was the one who opened her mouth first, of course, though it was only to spit " _What._ "

Miles clenched his hands into fists, not breaking eye contact. "You heard me."

"Yes, I _heard_ you," she hissed, "but I was going to give us _both_ the opportunity to pretend those foolish words never emerged from your foolish mouth!"

Ah, there it was, her verbal tic. He wished she would use a different word once in a while, but he suspected at this point that Franziska only persisted in using the word because she didn't have to think about it. But he didn't want her to say things without thinking about them. Not now. "I don't want to pretend anything," he said, resolutely. "I'm… I'm going to ask him to marry me, and I thought you should know."

She threw up her hands. "And what should this have to do with _me?_ "

Miles frowned at her. "Don't do that, Franziska," he said quietly. No matter how much she blustered, Miles knew she would always consider him family. Her harsh words had stopped being able to fool him years ago.

Her pale cheeks went just the slightest bit pink, and she glared at him as if annoyed that he had seen through her. There was a brief silence, and then she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "I believe it goes without saying that I think this is an abysmal idea," she groused. "Absolutely ludicrous. The most foolish thing I have ever heard out of you, and I have heard a wealth of foolish things!"

The prosecutor sighed, recognizing a defensive, noncommittal answer when he heard one. "Franziska, can we not drop the façades for a moment?" he pleaded. "I would greatly appreciate your support in this matter."

She moved her eyes over him, looking like a cat trying to decide whether a bird was worth attacking or not, but then looked away, her gaze resting on a reuniting family a few yards away. "I always knew you were in love with him," she said quietly.

A wry smile spread across his face. "Well, nothing escapes your notice, does it."

Her glare was back in full force, and fixed on him again. "Do not patronize me, Miles Edgeworth!" she growled. "It was in every action you took, every word you spoke to him." She pointed at him dramatically, wagging her finger in his face. "That man has made a fool of you for years, and now you intend to let him make a fool of you _for the rest of your life?_ "

He pushed her hand down away from his face gently. "Yes," he said, "if he'll let me."

There was another stretch of moments during which Franziska remained quiet. Then her shoulders fell ever so slightly, and she looked down, sighing again. "I know you want me to be happy for you, Miles, but..." Her fingertips ran over the whip at her side, not moving to use it, but merely reassuring herself with its presence. "You are… making yourself vulnerable to the extreme. It is… worrisome."

"I trust him," Miles said with absolute certainty. "I'm confident he won't hurt me, and I've sworn to myself to not hurt him ever again."

At these earnest words for affection for Phoenix Wright, Franziska's lip curled, and she hugged her elbows and recoiled in apparent disgust. "Ugh, who is this soft man and what has he done with the proud prosecutor I once knew?!" she lamented melodramatically. Miles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "The Miles Edgeworth of my youth would never spew such emotional drivel!"

"The Miles Edgeworth of your youth was, as you would say, a fool." He crossed his arms. "I like the Miles Edgeworth I am now much better."

Her posture relaxed gradually, and at last Miles saw the fight beginning to drain out of her as she looked down at the floor between them. "...And he loves you?" she asked softly.

The prosecutor couldn't help the smile that twitched across his mouth before he stifled it again. "He claims he always has. Possibly since we were children?" He scoffed, or maybe chuckled. "What an absurd idea..."

The long sigh she made then was one of resignation, and concession. She grabbed at one bicep, her posture belying the vulnerability she usually kept so carefully hidden. "I… I do want you to be happy, Miles..." she admitted, her voice and her face so much gentler than he was used to.

"Franziska..." he replied, moved.

And then her shoulders were raising back up defensively, and her unforgiving gaze was burning into him again. "So you tell your new fiancé that if he ever does anything foolish to jeopardize the trust you have placed in him, he will have to answer to Franziska von Karma!" Her mouth was set into a firm line that was actually quivering a little, and her cheeks were dusted pink again.

Miles supposed that was as close as Franziska von Karma would ever come to giving her blessing. "I'll tell him," he said, his voice warm with fondness. "Assuming I ever actually ask him, that is. Thank you, Franziska."

"Hmph!" she scoffed, tossing her short hair, her earrings swinging. "I have done nothing to warrant thanks at this time!" She grabbed Miles' shoulder and turned him around, and gave him a little shove between the shoulders. "Now go," she said. "Seize your idiotic defense attorney."

"I will," he promised her. "Or I'll try, in any case." She was still pushing him, so he stumbled forward a step. "If there is to be a wedding," he said over his shoulder, "I hope you will be in attendance."

She gave him one more barely-gentle shove and then stepped back, resting a fist on one hand haughtily. "You think I would pass up the opportunity to give an entire wedding party a good lashing? Ha!" She offered him a smile, then, her typically glacial eyes softening into something more like snowmelt. "I shall see you soon, Miles Edgeworth," she vowed. The tenderness did not last, however, because then she was giving him one more bossy finger-point. "Do not disappoint me!" she commanded, and then whirled around to disappear into the crowd before Miles could even say goodbye.

"So now if I don't propose, she'll be disappointed?" he muttered to himself, feeling a sort of affectionate exasperation. He spotted her periwinkle hair bobbing between the crowd, and wondered if he should try to talk with her a little more about what she'd been up to, but he suspected that once Franziska von Karma had made her dramatic exit, she probably intended to stay off the stage.

He shook his head, smiling to himself and thinking that telling his sister hadn't gone so badly after all.

Miles turned on his heel and started towards the entrance, eager to go home.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: A cruise and a captain.


	5. Honesty

**A/N** : Happy Narumitsu week 2k18, everybody! This whole fic kinda fits the theme for the first day, "rings," haha. So I guess you can consider this my official submission for day 1?  
Anyway, I know you're all probably inundated with new fics and art to ooh and ahh over, so thank you for taking the time to give my fic a little of your time!

* * *

Phoenix glanced over at him again, thinking that it was about time he did something after all.

Miles was sitting there in the cream-colored armchair next to the couch, a book open on his lap, the lamp light glinting off his glasses. He hadn't looked up at the television for over fifteen minutes. He looked elegant even after a long day at work, his white dress shirt still crisp somehow. If Phoenix lounged around in _his_ dress shirt for more than an hour or two, it always got rumpled, but somehow Miles managed to keep it perfectly neat. Phoenix was convinced it was some sort of sorcery.

Ever since his conversation with Athena almost a week ago, he'd felt an increasing restlessness. He wasn't satisfied with just letting the days go by without telling Miles how he really felt, he realized. Not that how he felt had changed, or anything. But Maya had been right: the subject they were avoiding was bound to come up sooner or later. Perhaps some things were easier if you just did them quickly, before you could talk yourself out of them. Like jumping into a cold pool, or ripping off a band-aid.

But yet, every time he started to feel like maybe he could ask him, maybe the words could just come out…

They didn't.

No matter how much he wanted to just shout _Hey, I've been in love with you since before I knew what love felt like! Let's get married!,_ he just hadn't been able to say it so far. But drinking in the sight of Miles as he was now, like some stupidly beautiful magazine photo, he wanted to say it. God, he wanted to.

He leaned over to the arm of the couch, closer to him. "So, whatcha readin'?" he said, because Miles had been engrossed in that book for half an hour now and he'd rather Miles be engrossed with talking to him, frankly.

Strangely, the prosecutor jumped, his shoulders stiffening and his cheeks gaining a pink tinge. "N-Nothing," he said casually. "Legal text."

Well, Miles _was_ the only type of person who would willingly read a legal text after 10 PM, but his reaction had been suspicious. "Hmmm," Phoenix said, and darted his hand out to snatch the book right out of the other man's hands.

"Give that back!" he spluttered, grabbing for it, but it was too late. Phoenix had seen what he was reading so intently.

"A novelization of _The Pink Princess,_ " he said, smirking and shaking his head. "Incredible."

"Shut up," Miles growled, swiping the book back and flushing. He opened it on his lap again, quickly finding his place. "The storytelling is really quite good," he defended himself in what was probably supposed to be a dignified manner but really just sounded a little mopey.

The defense attorney rested his crossed arms on the side of the couch, laying his chin on them. "You're adorable," he decided.

"I-I am not!" Miles protested, snapping the book closed again and going even darker pink as he glared at Phoenix. "Don't patronize me!"

"The most adorable person I've ever met," Phoenix insisted, and stood on his knees to stretch over and kiss him on the cheek.

Miles scoffed, and Phoenix laughed as the prosecutor gently shoved Phoenix's face away. "There's something wrong with your definition of the word 'adorable,'" he grumbled, adjusting his perfectly-positioned glasses.

Phoenix just grinned at him. "Yeah, maybe. But I like my definition better." He stared a little longer as his smile faded gradually. "You know, I still can't believe this sometimes." The words had come suddenly, unbidden.

"Believe what?"

"That you're with _me._ " He laughed incredulously. "It's… kind of wild." Could he really just bust out that life-changing question, just like that? The more Phoenix looked at his perfect face the more unlikely it was beginning to seem.

Miles sighed, lifting his eyes to Phoenix's. "Do you remember when I told you that no one gives you enough credit?" he said.

"Sure," he answered easily. He let a grin spread across his face. "It was right after you called me 'my dear Wright' and I just about died."

"Of course you remember _that_ part too," he grumbled, his face flushing.

Phoenix smirked. Miles always got so grumpy whenever he brought up anything from that fateful Thanksgiving. Honestly, it was half the reason Phoenix ever brought it up. "I kind of owe Drunk Miles Edgeworth a lot," he pointed out. "So of course I remember a lot of the stuff he said."

Miles laid the book aside, apparently deciding that he wasn't going to get any more reading done at the moment. His cheeks were the most delightful shade of pink. "I'm glad you enjoyed me making a fool of myself," he hissed, glaring at Phoenix.

Oops. He hadn't meant to actually upset him. "Miiiiles," he said with a sigh. "I don't remember it because it made you look like a fool—which it didn't, by the way," he added, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "I cherished that moment because of how _honest_ you were. It was… kind of revolutionary."

The prosecutor crossed his arms. "So you're saying that I was _dis_ honest with you before," he countered, misunderstanding Phoenix's intentions so thoroughly that the defense attorney was sure it had to be on purpose.

"I'm saying that I saw a side of you I'd never seen before, and it made me fall for you even harder," he clarified. "You were like..." He paused a moment, trying to think of how best to phrase this as he stared down at his hands. "An unrestored painting," he decided. "So captivating, but worn down, and stifled behind thick glass so you can't see all the details. But that Thanksgiving..." He smiled at the memory of the Miles who had laughed so easily and leaned close to him without fear, who had almost kissed him in his kitchen. "It was like I got to see the painting restored, and up close. And it was even more stunning than I'd thought."

When he looked up at Miles again, the prosecutor was flushed to the tips of his ears, staring down at his clenched fists in his lap. "You make it sound so easy," he murmured.

Phoenix blinked. "Make what sound easy?"

He met Phoenix's eyes, and there was something anguished behind them that made his heart clench. "Saying… saying things like that!" said Miles, and then sighed and looked away. "I wish I could do that. Tell you what you mean to me." He shook his head, wearing a look of defeat. "But it's impossible. Words can't encompass it. At least, not any that I know. And I know a lot."

Suddenly Phoenix's face was feeling rather warm, too. "That… was pretty good, by itself," he admitted.

Miles' brow furrowed. "It was?" he said, surprised.

Phoenix rose from the couch to stand in front of the armchair. He took both of Miles' hands, and smiled down at him. "I like the words you use," he told the prosecutor. "But, y'know, if you can't use words… you could always use actions." Ordinarily he would have thrown in an eyebrow waggle, but since he was actually being serious here, he refrained.

"I'm trying to," Miles said, searching Phoenix's face with those gray eyes. "Take action, I mean." He grimaced, his eyes darting away. "It… hasn't been going well..."

Phoenix leaned over to kiss him. "I think it's been going great," he disagreed.

"Well, sure, the _relationship_ has," said Miles impatiently, "but my—" Phoenix cut him off with another smooch. "—my attempts to—" Another, which Phoenix smiled into. "—to tell you what you mean to me—" After this kiss, Miles finally growled in irritation and yanked Phoenix down onto his lap. "Don't attempt to distract me," he warned him. His scowl was impressive. "You're far too good at it."

Phoenix blinked down at him, still startled that he was suddenly sitting across his lap. "Sorry. Sometimes I'm still amazed that someone like me can even distract you," he confessed.

The furrow between the prosecutor's brow deepened. "You always say things like that, but—" His cheeks reddened again. "The reality is, you're far too good for me," he ended on a mutter, not looking at him as usual.

More dumbfounded blinking. "D-Don't make me laugh, Miles," he finally responded, chuckling a little in disbelief. "Everyone knows it's the other way around."

"You're still giving yourself far too little credit," Miles told him, smiling at him ruefully.

His heart thumped in response to that smile. Even though some part of it was sad, most of it was tender. Full of affection. For _him._ It was a face he couldn't bear to live without again. "L-Listen, Miles..." Phoenix blurted suddenly, resting his hands on the prosecutor's shoulders. He hadn't planned on having this conversation while sitting on Miles' lap, but Phoenix Wright was nothing if not adaptable. "I've been thinking a lot about some of the stuff you've been saying… and… about some of the stuff I _haven't_ been saying..."

A flash of something like alarm appeared over Miles' features, and then disappeared just as quickly. "O-Oh?" was all he said, though.

"I don't know where I would be in life without you," Phoenix continued. "Heck, I don't even know if I'd still be around… But I never want to start another day without you again."

Miles was starting to look a little panicked. "I—s—the same can be said for me," he stammered nevertheless, "but Phoenix—"

He'd come too far to not finish it now. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life," he said, and then took a deep breath. "So, Miles—" At that moment his sentence came to an abrupt end, as Miles seized the back of his head and dragged him down to devour his mouth in a kiss. He seemed desperate, all of a sudden, his tongue pressing against Phoenix's insistently.

"M-Miles," he breathed shakily when they broke apart, moving his hands over the front of the prosecutor's dress shirt. "Not that I don't appreciate this—I do, like, a _lot,_ but… I was kind of trying to say something import—"

"Words can't express how I feel about you right now," Miles cut him off. "Let me show you. Please." His eyes were dark, swallowed up by his pupils, and his cheeks were reddened.

Phoenix felt his face warm rapidly to match, and a dizzying heat shot through him almost despite himself. "O-Okay," he choked.

He couldn't help but wonder, as Miles dragged him off to their bedroom by the hand, if Miles was just trying to avoid what Phoenix had been trying to say.

* * *

Miles lay with his head turned to the side on his pillow, his eyes moving over his partner as he slept. Phoenix Wright's limbs were splayed out wide. His hair was a mess (though that was mostly Miles' fault). His mouth was hanging half-open, and a quiet snore emerged every time he breathed in. Rationally, Miles knew it was an undignified, even comical sight, but his first thought as he laid his eyes on Phoenix was still _perfect._

He wished he hadn't had to use the particular method he had used to distract him, but he suspected that neither Phoenix nor he had minded very much after a few minutes, really.

Phoenix had been trying to propose to him tonight; he was sure of it. That nervousness, the flow of his words… they had been just the same as Miles', both those previous times. But after how hard Miles had been working to find a way to express his love for Phoenix, after everything he'd planned, after he'd picked out a gorgeous _ring,_ he couldn't let it happen like that. Not just sitting in their family room. Not while Phoenix was sitting across his lap in an armchair.

Not before Miles could find a way to put into words how much he cherished this man; to be completely and totally honest.

Honesty, huh?

He ran over the things Phoenix had said regarding Thanksgiving in his mind. Miles hadn't found it so hard to be honest then, he realized. Phoenix had appreciated his (somewhat unintentional) candor, that night.

Miles wondered, as he turned over to face the other direction and let his eyes fall closed, if Phoenix still had any Captain Morgan.

* * *

Phoenix looked over at the man standing next to him as they leaned over the railing of the cruise ship.

He was wearing an open shirt, which was strange, and an easy smile, which was a rarity. The air smelled of sea salt, and the orange light of the sunset was making everything glow.

"I'm so glad you got us these tickets," he found himself saying, which was also odd, because he hadn't known about any tickets before he'd begun speaking.

Miles smiled over at him, and then laid a hand over Phoenix's, which was gripping the railing.

A gold band glinted on his finger.

Something jolted inside Phoenix, a feeling of _not right._ He abruptly realized he couldn't remember when they'd boarded the ship, or what the ticket had looked like, or… or that band on Miles' finger. And yet, everything in Phoenix's heart told him that it was meant to be there, without a doubt.

"What's wrong?" Miles voice brought him out of his little internal crisis. "You seem unsettled all of a sudden."

"I just… I can't believe I get to have this," he breathed. "To have _you._ " He turned his hand over to lace his fingers with Miles'. Phoenix was wearing a gold band, too, he noticed.

"Well, that is what they said during the ceremony, isn't it?" said his husband, apparently, lifting an eyebrow at him and giving him an expression that was equal parts amused and curious. "' _To have and to hold, until death do you part'_?"

Phoenix laughed, a little hysterically. "I… I never thought I'd hear those words from you," he confessed.

Miles looked up at him, something like playfulness sparking behind his eyes. "Yes, well, you never thought you'd hear the word _romantic_ from me, either. I guess I'm full of surprises."

"Miles," Phoenix said suddenly, taking the other man by the shoulders and turning both of them to face one another. "Is… Is this real?!"

The prosecutor bowed his head, and wouldn't meet Phoenix's eyes. "Does it feel real?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I… I don't know!" he said helplessly, dropping his hands down by his sides to curl into fists. "I want to believe it's real, but… I don't remember how we got here, or our reception, or even how I proposed!"

"That's because you didn't," Miles responded, taking a step back from Phoenix to smile at him regretfully. "And that is why this isn't your reality."

He looked at Miles blankly, disappointment like an anchor in his belly. "Wh-What?"

His husband (was he?) said nothing for a moment, but turned away and gripped the railing, staring out at the sea again. The sky was a canvas of scarlet and indigo, blurring together like a massive watercolor, and the sun sat on the horizon like it was floating half-submerged in the water. Distantly, over the steady roar of the waves, Phoenix registered the sound of gulls crying. "The sun is setting," said Miles, which didn't really answer any of the hundreds of questions swirling through Phoenix's mind. "Are you familiar with the expression _carpe diem_?" the prosecutor asked next, glancing at him over his shoulder.

Phoenix shuffled over to stand next to him, resting his elbows on the railing as well. "I guess I must be, if you're a figment of my imagination," he quipped.

Miles offered him an amused smile. "It means _seize the day,_ " he informed him. "We must do what we set out to do and make the most of the time we have."

Well, it wasn't like Phoenix hadn't been trying to do just that. "I think I get what you're saying," said the defense attorney, "but how am I going to _seize the day_ when it seems like the day doesn't want to be seized?"

"Seizing the day does not always mean taking initiative to make things move forward," said the man at his side. "Sometimes it means realizing that you cannot force change on your own, and must wait for an opportunity to present itself."

Phoenix sighed, hanging his head. "Great," he muttered darkly. "Now even my own conscience wants me to _'give it time.'_ "

"That is not what I said," Miles pointed out. "I merely meant that perhaps things are already changing, but because you have been trying to force your own changes, you haven't noticed, hm?" He ended with another infuriating quirk of his eyebrow.

The defense attorney groaned in frustration and faced him again. "Can you not be cryptic here?" he begged. "You're hard enough to read in real life!" He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around what Miles (was he?) had said. "Look, this is a dream, isn't it?" he asked then. "So shouldn't I be spending it making out with you in unrealistic locations?"

Miles looked a little taken aback. "A cruise ship isn't unrealistic enough for you?"

"Knowing _you?!_ " He tossed up his hands. "Not that unrealistic, no!"

Miles took his arms off the rail and crossed them, regarding Phoenix. His subconscious was really doing an amazing job recreating how great Miles' chest was, he noted to himself, even when his arms were covering it up. "Where would you rather be, then?" he inquired.

"I… I don't know," Phoenix admitted. His shoulders fell a little. "Anywhere. I don't care. I… I just want to be with you."

And then it was just the two of them standing in empty white space. "Like this?" asked Miles.

That wasn't quite what he'd meant, but wherever they were, Phoenix would probably have ended up spending more time looking at Miles than at the scenery anyway. "Sure," he decided, reaching out to him. "Like this."

Miles fell into his arms, and slid his own over Phoenix's shoulders, opening his mouth to Phoenix when he angled his head to deepen the kiss. He wrapped his arms around his partner at the waist, his fingers touching bare skin, shuddering at the intensity of the sensations caused when Miles ran his hand through Phoenix's hair and tugged lightly.

"Phoenix," said Miles softly, pulling back a little.

"Miles," he responded, chasing his lips, but Miles let go of him and took a step back.

"Phoenix," he said again, more firmly. He retreated a few more steps. " _Phoenix._ " Though he was moving farther away, his voice seemed louder.

"Wh-What's wrong?" Phoenix asked. "Don't go away yet! D-Did I do something wrong here? Did I do something wrong in real life?! I don't know what I'm supposed to do yet!"

" _PHOENIX,_ " said Miles one more time, and Phoenix's eyes snapped open. Miles—the real one, pink ( _wine red,_ he would insist) pajamas and all—was hovering over him, his arms bracketing Phoenix's shoulders, his hair still a little messy from earlier. "What's the matter?" the prosecutor asked, his brow creased with concern. The furrow looked even deeper in the dim light from the bedside table. "You were mumbling in your sleep about not knowing where you were or what you were supposed to do."

Phoenix swallowed, secretly glad that he hadn't gone any further with Dream Miles if he'd been mumbling in his sleep. "Y-Yeah," he answered. "Just… strange dream."

"Ah," Miles said, nodding. "I can certainly empathize with that." He tilted his head a little over him, his mouth quirking over to one side. His gray eyes were soft, but questioning.

"What's up?" he prompted him, knowing that Miles rarely voiced his worries unless given a nudge.

"I'm trying to determine how best to ensure that your remaining sleep is untroubled," Miles answered, running a thumb under one of Phoenix's eyes. He must have had circles under them. It was sweet of him to be worried.

"I dunno," Phoenix said in response to his statement. "I mean, usually I sleep great after… um, well..." His cheeks heated up. "...You know."

"Well, I don't think I can offer that at this moment," Miles said, his mouth twitching into a brief smile.

"I-I wasn't asking!" he hastened to say.

Miles was still searching him with his eyes. "Well, I know it's not much, but… I'm here," he said. A slight flush dusted his cheeks. "I'm here, and… I love you."

Phoenix beamed up at him, touched at his attempt to turn Phoenix's own words back on him. Dream Miles had been fantastic, but seeing this Miles, _his_ Miles, look at him with such honest concern and compassion and _love,_ was so much better. "Not much?" he repeated, and then pulled Miles down against his chest. He buried his nose in the soft silver hair. He smelled like the citrus shampoo that they shared. "It's _everything._ "

Miles usually didn't like being held as they fell asleep, but he tolerated it this time, because he was better than anything Phoenix could dream up.

* * *

The next few days, Miles tried to be as honest as possible with Phoenix, even when it was embarrassing (and it was usually embarrassing). Phoenix had seemed amazed when Miles had answered the casual question "What are you thinking about?" with "How much I appreciate you." Phoenix had turned the most lovely shade of red. The defense attorney had sounded similarly startled over the phone when Miles had answered the inquiry "How's work?" with "Tedious and dull, as everything is without you." That particular one had left him stammering for about five seconds before he could say anything intelligible. Miles was even quite sure that Phoenix had been near tears when, just last night, Miles had rolled near him in bed to whisper "I adore you" near his ear completely unprompted. It was easier to say things like that when Phoenix couldn't see his face in the darkness. Phoenix had made a sniffling noise and clung to him like a koala, muttering endearments into his hair, which was sweet, but a little stifling after a few minutes honestly. It was still cold out, but Phoenix produced so much body heat that being held by him for too long started to feel like being smothered. There were worse ways to be smothered, Miles supposed.

But whenever Miles drew close to the thing he really wanted to say, the prosecutor clammed up, his mouth shutting almost of its own accord. He was carrying the ring around on a daily basis, now, since he was no longer afraid of Trucy finding it. He had gotten so close, on a few occasions. _"Phoenix, will you m...aaaaake spaghetti again this weekend?" "Phoenix Wright, will you please maaaaaa-ybe pass me that book?" "I'm tired of waiting, Phoenix; I need you to mm...mmmove over so I can sit there."_ Phoenix always looked at him quizzically, wondering why Miles was suddenly so intense about spaghetti or that particular place on the couch, but he always acquiesced, because he was a wonderful creature who tolerated all of Miles' strange behaviors (it was only fair, though, because the defense attorney had a great number of strange habits himself).

Eventually (by which Miles meant an entire three days after Phoenix's own attempted proposal), Miles decided enough was enough. If he couldn't simply blurt out his proposal, he had to begin planning something again. He had concluded that he was, evidently, a weak, pathetic man who could only say what he needed to say under dramatic circumstances or with elaborate props. In the absence of these, it was time to look to more... unconventional methods.

The man at the liquor store looked at him oddly when he marched up to the counter and demanded a bottle of Captain Morgan's Long Island Iced Tea, but he shuffled into the back and brought out the requested beverage nonetheless.

Miles paid the man and left, vowing to make Saturday night the night he proposed to Phoenix Wright.

* * *

Phoenix knew there was something wrong when he returned from taking Trucy to the train station to spend the rest of the weekend in Kurain Village. It was only 9 o'clock, but their place was pitch black, save for the ghostly blue light from the television flickering across their family room. He made his way over to the couch to see a familiar lump sprawled over on it. He felt a little alarmed, suddenly. Miles never fell asleep on the couch. He never left the television on when no one was watching it. And, Phoenix thought most emphatically as he turned on the lights, he certainly never indulged in the kind of drink that was sitting on their coffee table (at least, not without the influence of a well-intentioned but naive young spirit medium).

Miles was slumped over the far arm of the couch, his dress shirt rumpled for once. Phoenix picked up the bottle of Captain Morgan, and was startled to find that it was nearly empty. His eyes darted over to his boyfriend again, feeling the pricklings of panic in his belly. He desperately hoped that Miles was only asleep, not passed out. He quickly turned off the television and then turned back to the prone prosecutor.

"Miles," he whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Miiiiiles. You okay?"

"Mmmmgh," said Miles, sitting up and pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. Thank goodness. He blinked open those gray eyes and stared up at Phoenix.

Phoenix stared back. "Hi," he said cautiously.

A slow smile spread across Miles' face, one that was unguarded in a way Phoenix didn't usually get to see. "Welcome home, gorgeous," slurred the Chief Prosecutor.

Phoenix's face heated up. _Gorgeous?_ He shook it out of his mind for now. He had to make sure Miles was all right. Best to get the most obvious question out of the way, even if he knew the answer. "Miles," he started, "have you been drinking?"

"Yyyyyyyup!" his boyfriend responded, ending the word on a pop. He reached towards the bottle Phoenix was still holding, but Phoenix held it out of his reach, so the other man merely shrugged and relaxed against the back of the couch.

"Um, not that I'm judging, Miles, but..." He stared at the label of the bottle in his hand. "This… isn't the kind of thing you usually go for." He turned his eyes back to Miles again. His top two buttons were undone. Phoenix didn't think he'd ever seen his buttons partially undone (unless Phoenix had undone them, anyway). "Is… Is everything all right?"

"Nope!" said Miles cheerfully. "I've had somethin' on my mind for _ages_ and I can't ever seem to get it off my chest. So I thought maybe if I got a li'l drunk I could finally say it. I mean, it worked for me before, and all." He grinned at Phoenix. "Pretty clever, huh?"

Phoenix felt his brow crease. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be drunk to say what you need to say to me..."

Miles flapped his arm around dismissively, though the movement was so lazy he could have been trying to shoo an errant fly. "Oh I don't _have_ to be," he qualified enigmatically. "It's jus' a whole lot easier." He gave Phoenix a thorough thrice-over. The defense attorney felt a little bashful under such obviously appreciative scrutiny, but it was also sort of flattering, honestly. "Like, if I hadn't been drinking," Miles continued, "I wouldn't tell you that you look _amazing_ in those horrible old jeans you have on. Absolutely _amazing."_

He couldn't help but half smile at that as he sat down. "Is that so."

"Mm," Miles nodded, and leaned against his shoulder. "You drive me nuts. Totally, completely bonkers."

His face was heating up again. "R-Right back at you," he admitted anyway. He felt a flutter in his chest. Though it wasn't under the most favorable of circumstances, it was still kind of nice to know that Miles got goofy-happy feelings about him, too. Or maybe he only felt this goofy over him when he was drunk?...

"So _anyway,_ " Miles said then, his voice suddenly forceful as he sat up straight again. "I should do the thing I wanted to do."

The defense attorney blinked. "Huh?"

"The reason I got drunk," Miles clarified in a stage-whisper. "I should say the thing." He winked. Well, either that, or the hypothetical fly from earlier had just flown into his eye, because winks weren't normally that slow or that hard.

"Uh," he said, unsure. "Miles, you're even drunker than you were on Thanksgiving. You're, like, not even using big words." Not that he didn't want to hear whatever he had to say, of course. But last time Miles had gotten drunk and said a bunch of things to him, he'd been mortified and never wanted to discuss his behavior again. Phoenix didn't want him to feel that level of embarrassment again if he could prevent it. "Are you sure you should be saying important stuff or making decis—" He looked down at the fingers that were suddenly pressed against his mouth.

" _Shhhhhhuh,_ " Miles shushed him loudly. "Just… close your incredible mouth for a second."

His eyebrows shot up. "Incrbl?" he echoed, muffled.

Miles pulled his hand away, and took Phoenix's, stroking it. "Phoenix, I love you so ludicrously much," said the prosecutor. "You are… everything. You saved me."

"I love you too," Phoenix said, his heart doing a two-step. "And you saved me first."

His partner snorted. "I just stood up to a buncha fourth graders. _You_ stood up to _everyone…_ even _me._ " He looked up to meet Phoenix's eyes, his face suddenly intense. "When you said you didn't believe my nightmare… d'you know what that was like for me?"

"No," he admitted. Miles had never told him, after all.

"It was like… um..." Miles crossed his arms, thinking a minute. "Actually getting to see a rainbow," he decided, "after only getting to hear 'em described your whole life. I never thought someone could believe in me the way you did. It changed me forever."

Phoenix couldn't hide his delighted smile. "A rainbow?" he repeated incredulously.

Miles shoved his shoulder without any force. "Oh, shut up, it's a good analogy. You called me a _painting_ the other night."

"No, it's just," Phoenix was still stifling laughter. "Unicorns, rainbows… Drunk You is precious."

He got another weak shove for that. "You're the worst," he said playfully, but then his expression clouded over, his brow furrowing as he stared at his knees. "Except you aren't," he said, quieter. "You really aren't..." He was silent a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was solemn. "I said such terrible things to you when you met me as a rookie… I said you should never show your face to me again..." He looked up again, and he grasped Phoenix's arm gently. His eyes were desperate, searching. "Why did you?"

"Well, obviously because that wasn't how you really felt," Phoenix answered easily.

Miles tugged on his sweater sleeve insistently. "But how did you know?" he pressed.

Phoenix shrugged. "The Miles Edgeworth who stood up for me in that classroom would never have said that. I knew the _real_ you."

Miles bit his lip, the crease between his brows still in full force. "Yeah, but then… after you saved me… after we saved Lana and Ema…" He swallowed. He wouldn't look at Phoenix's face anymore. "I abandoned you. After all you'd done for me..." The prosecutor's voice had become choked. "How can you possibly forgive that? I let you think I _died._ "

A searing flame of grief, a hurt that always stung no matter how much time had passed, flared within Phoenix's chest for a moment. He paused, not sure how to answer this. "I have to admit that it took me a very long time to forgive you for that," he finally said softly. "Like I said back then, I felt betrayed. And there's nothing I hate more than feeling betrayed."

Miles did look at him then, and Phoenix was startled to realize that his eyes were filling with tears. "I knew it," he said miserably. "You hated me…!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Phoenix blurted frantically, holding up his hands and wondering if he should go for a hug or not. "That's not what I said!"

"I didn't want to abandon you," the prosecutor lamented. "I just… felt so… dirty..." A tear finally escaped to roll down his cheek. "I didn't deserve to stand in the courtroom again, not after all the terrible things I did in there." His face twisted in an even deeper expression of anguish. "Probably to some innocent people…!"

"Miles," Phoenix said, his voice placating, "I know—"

"Sixty-five," he whispered, cutting Phoenix off. "That's how many court cases I had before I met you again. 'N you know what? I got sixty-four of 'em declared guilty. The first one died right there in the courtroom." His eyes met Phoenix's again, and the pain there was so raw that Phoenix felt it like a physical jab. "How many more of 'em died after?" He grabbed onto Phoenix's sweater again. "How many people have I killed?"

Phoenix no longer cared if Miles wanted the contact or not. He took the other man into his arms without a second thought. "Miles," he said soothingly, stroking his back, "You might have been… um, _intense,_ but you never did anything really _unscrupulous!_ You were only doing your job. Just… er, a lot more rigidly than most..." Crap, he wasn't really making this sound better.

Miles shook his head, pulling away from him. "No," he said, pulling at his silver hair a little. "I let my superiors tell me what weak points to attack in my opponents… I let them whisper in my ear… I didn't mind doing it since I thought everyone on the defendant's bench was a monster… But it was me all along that was the monster."

"No, no it wasn't," Phoenix insisted, reaching out for him again. "Anyway, that doesn't matter now—"

"It _does!"_ Miles cut him off. "How can you say it doesn't?! People _died,_ Phoenix, because of _me!"_ He grabbed at the front of Phoenix's sweater. "I killed them… and all _you've_ ever done your whole life is _save_ people. You've saved me over and over, even though I never deserved it once…!"

"Yes you did," Phoenix told him firmly, brushing his fingers through the prosecutor's hair comfortingly. "Don't ever say that." Phoenix had felt much the same, once, and the thought that Miles might be having the same emotions as he had back then broke Phoenix's heart. When Miles only sniffled in response, Phoenix drew back and took Miles' face in his hands. "Miles, you've punished yourself long enough," he said, and then paused to wipe another escaping tear with his thumb. "It doesn't help anyone, least of all you." He searched Miles' eyes, but the other man still looked utterly lost, so he went on. "It's okay to acknowledge your mistakes. But you can't let them control your actions in the present. If you focus on them too much, you'll just end up making more mistakes. The proper thing to do is to _learn_ from those mistakes." He offered a smile. "And you have."

Miles sniffled again, and sat back, wiping his eyes. "How do you say stuff like that?" he muttered helplessly. "From anyone else it would sound so… so trite. So inane. So fake. But from you..." And then he had suddenly flopped forward onto Phoenix's chest, nuzzling his still-tear-streaked face under his chin as he kissed sloppily against his neck. "You're like… an angel..." he murmured into warm skin.

The hair on the back of Phoenix's neck stood up as goosebumps erupted under his sweater sleeves, and his face was blazing with heat, but he pushed Miles back a little, keeping his hands on Miles' shoulders. "W-Well, I don't know about that," he said awkwardly. _Self-control, Phoenix,_ he told his racing pulse.

"No really," Miles insisted. "You're my angel. You're always lookin' out for me. Even though I was a Demon Prosecutor…" His face crumpled again in preparation for more tears. "God, I'm the worst…!"

"Miles, I've never seen you cry like this before!" Phoenix said desperately, taking him into his arms again and sort of rocking both of them from side to side for some reason. Perhaps he was trying to soothe him? Phoenix didn't know what he was doing anymore. He just wanted Miles to stop crying, because it was one of the most painful things he had ever witnessed. "It's all right," he said gently, stroking his hair again. "You're not the worst."

Miles had buried his face into the crook of Phoenix's elbow, his arms coming up to hold onto his arm. "Sorry," he said into the defense attorney's sleeve. "I'm not usually like this."

Phoenix couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "Yeah, I know." He leaned back against the arm of the couch, gently pulling Miles with him to rest against his chest.

"Last time I cried," said Miles, lifting his head, "it was when you got disbarred." He locked eyes with Phoenix. Miles' were puffy, red around the rims. "I felt so helpless."

The defense attorney gave him a lopsided smile. "Actually, the last time you cried was last week when we watched the finale to the Steel Samurai for like the eighth time." He kissed Miles' forehead, and kept petting his hair. "Don't think I didn't notice."

Miles yawned. "That didn't count," he mumbled.

Phoenix smiled wider. "Okay."

Miles blinked slowly. "Look, I'm just sayin'… I'm not a good person." He looked down, playing with the strings of Phoenix's hoodie. "I've done so much wrong. I might not even be the kind of person that'd be good for you..." He let himself relax against his partner's chest, nuzzling under his chin again. "But I am just so… stupid in love with you..." He sighed. "I think I've been in love with you my whole life..."

His heart glowed at that. "Me too," he said softly.

"And, um..." The prosecutor's head was nodding now, his blinks getting longer and his eyelids drooping. "The… the thing I wanted to say… It's..."

Phoenix waited. "It's… what?" he prompted.

Miles' eyelids were fluttering. "Shit," he mumbled. "I drank too much..."

"Did you just say _shit_?" said Phoenix, startled.

Miles' forehead flopped forward onto Phoenix's collar bones. "Ggggnnhmn," was all he said, which didn't answer any of Phoenix's many questions.

"Are you falling asleep?" Phoenix whispered near his ear.

He just gave another contented sigh, tilting his head to rest against him more comfortably. "Love you… Phoenix..."

Phoenix still felt tears against his skin, but Miles had stopped moving. "Um… I love you too, Miles," he replied.

Miles answered with a snore, which was incredible, because Phoenix had never heard him do it before.

"Well," he sighed, struggling to sit up and then maneuvering Miles in his arms, one arm under his knees and the other around the back of his shoulders, "guess I'm carrying you back to the room." With difficulty, he hoisted himself to his feet, stumbling a little under all the dead weight. Miles' head was tucked against his neck. He carried him off, wondering how long he was going to be able to keep doing this kind of thing.

"For what it's worth," he whispered fondly as he laid him out gently on their bed and brushed a strand of hair away from his cheek, "I thought you were an angel back in fourth grade, too."

* * *

Miles woke abruptly some hours later. His eyes, when they snapped open, still felt sticky from all the tears he hadn't wiped away.

Unfortunately, just like the last time he'd been drunk, he had a full recollection of every horrifyingly embarrassing thing he had said. How could he have sprung that all on Wright? He was supposed to be asking him to _marry_ him, not whining about his own personal failings! An intense shame, roiling and sick-feeling in his gut, consumed him. His face burned with the recollection.

He had to get out of here.

Quietly, he scooted over to the edge of their bed. He was wearing his pajamas, he noticed with another sting of humiliation. Wright must have changed his clothes like he was a sick child. Miles would slip out for a while, get his head on straight. Or maybe just not come back for a while. Frankly he was considering never coming back. He had gone too far this time, and subjected Phoenix to a truly disturbing display. He swung his legs out over the bed, and lifted himself up.

Just as he was about to make a step towards the door, a hand caught his and held him back. "Are you feeling better?" came his partner's sleep-thickened voice.

"Let go, Wright," he growled dangerously, pulling against the grip.

"Never," he said, tightening his hold.

"You should not have seen me in such a state," Miles said, his voice clipped, his head bowed. "I deeply apologize."

"No need."

He whirled on him. "Yes there is!" he burst out in exasperation. "God, how much can you _possibly_ be willing to overlook?!"

"I'm not overlooking anything," said Phoenix, bracing himself on one elbow. He still looked sleepy, but his eyes were alert and intent. "I'm accepting it. There's a difference."

Miles just stared.

"I love you," Phoenix said firmly. "Including the you that cried all over me last night." An insufferable, saccharine grin spread across his face. "You said I was like a rainbow… it was so damn cute..."

His face felt like he'd dipped it in lava. "Oh my god, let me die," he groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

"Nope," Phoenix chirped, yanking on his elbow until Miles tumbled back onto the bed. The defense attorney continued to tug against him until he was wrapped in his arms again. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're stuck here on earth with me."

Miles made a face. "Please don't call me that."

Phoenix's face was teasing. "Would you prefer _'babe'_? Or _'honey bun,'_ perhaps?"

"Ugh," Miles gagged. "Sweetheart it is."

Phoenix laughed, and kissed behind his ear. "Thanks, angel."

"You're the worst," Miles muttered, his face flushing again.

His defense attorney just grinned at him, having hoisted himself over Miles to look down at him. "Now, now," he said, and unbuttoned a bit of Miles' pajama shirt to kiss down his neck. "I know that's not how you really feel." He undid a few more buttons, and kissed between his ribs. Miles tried not to squirm at the ticklish sensation. Phoenix paused, and looked up at him, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I've been told I drive you bonkers."

Miles flung a pillow over his overheated face and groaned in utter mortification as Phoenix undid the last few buttons and brushed his lips against his stomach. "The _worst,"_ he repeated emphatically, his voice muffled.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: A prosecutor's poignant prose.


	6. Electricity

**A/N:** Wow, that sure was one hectic NaruMitsu Week! I posted about 4 oneshots over on Ao3 for it, but once I write one more for the day I missed, I'll put them up over here too under one story! Hope everyone who likes this story will also check those out~

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, everyone!

* * *

Miles knew he'd reached the end of his rope when he blurted out "Please help me propose to Wright" to Detective Skye the following week on Monday.

She paused from where she'd been about to exit his office, her hand on the door as she stood with one foot past the threshold. She did not turn around. "...What?"

He could have pretended he'd never said anything. He could have told her to forget it and sent her on her way, as she'd only been here to drop off some paperwork. But it was March now, and carrying a very expensive ring around in your pocket (or someone else's pocket, for that matter) for almost a month was really quite pathetic. His tentative approaches had been getting him nowhere. It was time seek other opinions. "I have been trying to find a way to propose to Wright since January," he confessed. "Nothing I've attempted thus far has worked. I'm… running out of ideas."

Ema took a step backwards, back into the room, and shut the door quietly. She always was good at respecting Miles' need for discretion. It was one of several things Miles appreciated about her. When she finally turned around to face him, her cheeks were dusted pink, but she was wearing a familiar determined expression. "What have you tried so far?" she asked him, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

"I hardly see how recounting my failures is going to help," Miles responded. Plus they were all humiliating.

"If we approach this scientifically," she said, heralding a speech that was no doubt going to be only minimally scientific, "going through your previous experiments and identifying all the factors therein would help us to isolate the variables that could have led to undesirable outcomes, and then eliminate them."

"I'd hardly call them _experiments,_ but your point is well taken," he sighed, resting his elbows on his desk. "Thus far, I have attempted a proposal during live orchestral music which was interrupted with news of a fire, hundreds of flowers on Valentine's Day to which Wright was deathly allergic, poetry which I ended up throwing away, and…" He cleared his throat. "Deliberately lowering my inhibitions." He didn't elaborate further on that one, and she didn't ask for details, bless her. "I think _he_ almost asked _me_ , once." Miles looked up at the forensic scientist, letting his hands _thwap_ against the desk in frustration. " _Why_ didn't I just let him ask me then? I wouldn't have to think about any of this!"

"Hmm..." Ema made her way over to the couch nearest the wall and dropped onto it, crossing one leg over the other and looking thoughtful. "Well… H-How should I say this..." She grimaced, and smoothed down her already-quite-smooth labcoat nervously.

"Please speak freely, Ms. Skye," said Miles, gesturing with his hand for her to go on. "I am asking you for advice as your friend, not your superior."

The scientist gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. "S-Sir…!" she breathed. She looked so moved it was honestly a little embarrassing.

"You were saying?" he prompted her.

"R-Right," she said, and her face smoothed into that of the professional forensic scientist once more. "Um, well, you're the kind of person who doesn't like to leave things up to other people. You'd rather... take them into your own hands to ensure they turn out favorably. I think that's probably why you wouldn't let Mr. Wright propose to you: you wanted to make sure it was done right."

He stared. "You're calling me bossy and domineering, aren't you," he said flatly.

She cringed, hunching her shoulders and ducking her head. "M-Maybe just a little, sir..."

"Nnngh," he winced. Why did all of his acquaintances have to hit him where it hurt? "Still," he said, trying to get them back on track and away from his personality flaws, "I wonder why he didn't try again. Do you think, perhaps, that he's given up?"

Ema made a doubtful face, her eyebrows drawing together and her mouth quirking on one side. "I don't think so, sir. I may not have seen it for a long time, but after it was staring me in the face, I couldn't help but notice: He is one-hundred percent smitten with you."

"Then why would he not keep asking?" he insisted, ignoring the blush that was prickling across his face.

"Well..." She was tapping her chin in thought. "Mr. Wright is headstrong and a little reckless, but he's always been pretty patient when it comes to you, hasn't he?"

Miles rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, considering that. It was true: Phoenix had always let Miles take the lead in matters between the two of them, whether it was waiting for Miles to open up about his past, or letting him have the final say on whether their first kiss would happen or not. "God," Miles groaned, holding his head in his hands. "He really is too good for me..."

"Wh-What?" Ema bleated, sounding downright flabbergasted that he would say such a thing.

"Nothing, nothing," the prosecutor sighed, waving off her shock as he sat up again. "Anyway, you were saying something earlier about… what was it? ' _Isolating variables that lead to undesired outcomes'_?" He crossed his arms, regarding her. "So tell me: what variables must be isolated? Where have I gone wrong?"

"Welllll..." She drew out the word, grimacing a little.

"Speak plainly, Detective," he reminded her.

She nodded dutifully. "All right, sir. Forgive me for saying this, but… those things you mentioned didn't sound like you at all!"

He blinked, surprised. "How so?"

"Well… I mean, they're so… _romantic!_ "

He just stared at her.

Ema flushed. "I-I mean, not that you can't be romantic, I'm sure!" she said hastily, flailing her hands around. "I just meant, well, those things all seem romantic for _other_ people."

"For… other people?" he echoed.

"Right!" she nodded, still a little frantic. "You need to express your feelings in a way that is meaningful to _you,_ personally."

"Meaningful to me, you say..."

"Yes, or meaningful to you _and_ Mr. Wright," she clarified.

"Hm..." He leaned back in his chair, thinking a moment. What was it Pearl had said? He needed to do this in a way that was " _uniquely him_ "? "You are not the first to suggest such a thing," he told Ema.

She flashed a quick smile before stifling it with a professional expression again. "I take it I'm not the only person who knows, then?"

He laughed, but it came out more like a _hmph._ "Indeed, some others have discovered my intention through one method or another. Kay knows, as well as Trucy, Ms. Cykes, Pearl Fey, and Franziska."

"Wow, Pearl knows, but not Maya?" Ema wondered, tapping her chin. "She must be working really hard to keep it a secret..." Then her eyes flew open wide and her jaw dropped as she processed the rest of his words. "Wait, you told _Ms. von Karma?!"_

He smiled wryly. "Yes. She took it surprisingly well, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering she's Franziska," he replied simply.

"Hm," she said, nodding. "You have a point." She allowed another smile to break through, and this one lingered. "Well, if you've told _her,_ surely saying what you want to say to Mr. Wright can't be all that hard!"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you," he said, a little glum. Talking to his sister was quite a bit different from confessing his feelings to his partner, after all. He looked up at her curiously. "What would you do, in my place?"

"M-Me?!" she squeaked, pointing to herself as if Miles could have been talking to anyone else. "I-I've never been in a situation like that!" Her cheeks were red again.

"Still," the prosecutor persisted, "If you were, what would you do?" He raised his eyebrows, a sudden thought occurring to him. "Unless it's not a situation you'd _want_ to find yourself in…?" He had no idea what the woman's inclinations were, after all.

"N-No, that's not it!" she blurted, flushing even darker. She took a deep breath, and let it out in a huff, seemingly trying to get herself under control. "H-Hmm.. What would I do..." She moved the foot that was resting over her knee up and down at the ankle, considering. "I think I'd… write a letter, maybe?" she said tentatively. "Yeah!" she decided with a nod. "A letter about why that person and I would be perfect together." She returned her focus to Miles, then, and shrugged bashfully. "S-Something like that, anyway..."

"A letter..." Miles weighed the idea in his mind, resting his chin on his clasped hands. He had tried poetry, but it had been slightly (all right, quite entirely) out of his area of expertise. But without having to worry about how he arranged the words, surely it would be easier to put his feelings to paper? He had done it once before, even: the note he had given to Wright at Christmas had been well-received, though Miles had nearly died of embarrassment watching him eagerly read the handwritten lines. Miles felt his heart clench, remembering how soft Phoenix's eyes had been when he'd looked up from the paper. That expression had made his extreme discomfort almost worth it.

And that wasn't his only experience with writing out his feelings. No, far from it. Indeed, there were a great many examples of such a thing right here in this office. And Wright had already expressed interest in reading them, hadn't he?…

"I think I have something that may work," he told Ema.

* * *

Miles thumbed through another volume, his eyes moving rapidly over page after page. The handwritten books were sprawled out all over his desk, laying on top of one another, some upside-down with their covers up (which Miles did not advocate, usually, as it put stress on the book's spine). He marveled at his own ability to write so much about mostly-trivial occurrences.

The idea was to select entries from previous journals and compile them into a brand-new journal, which he had purchased for the occasion. It was proving to be quite difficult, as there were just so _many_ entries involving Phoenix, and their history together spanned quite a long time. There were even journals from more than a decade ago, which Miles had been sure he'd thrown away, but here they were: tucked away discretely behind enormous law books, the only thing in Miles' office to be covered in dust.

His fingers briefly stilled on an entry from just a year ago:

 _Went to a restaurant with P and his associates after we'd finished up a case. He waited until I began eating, and then told me to smile, capturing a photo of me with his phone before I could protest. The photograph was of course intensely unflattering, and I demanded that he delete it. I do not think he did as I asked. Well, I shall have to retaliate by snapping an embarrassing photograph of him, next time._

Most of the entries from the last year were silly and lighthearted like that. But then there were those from darker days, ones that were almost difficult to read over…

 _The little magician girl is proving to be quite a handful for P. She vanished during a walk around the park today, on which I had joined them after they invited me. He quickly became agitated and nervous, searching for her frantically. When she reappeared with an ice cream cone and explained that she had gone to the ice cream truck, he hardly let her finish. He sank to his knees and pulled her to his chest. I saw his shoulders shake, and I heard him say, "Please don't disappear on me. You're all I have left." I wanted to reach out to them, but I had no words._

 _P has lost weight again. He smiles, but it is a forced smile with no warmth. He laughs, and it is an empty, bitter sound that makes my chest ache. I fear the man I know so well will never be the same, and I feel consumed by my helplessness. But I know what it is like to have everyone turn their backs on you. I will not let that happen to him. I will stay._

 _Have dragged P on another excursion to Europe. He was mostly despondent on the plane, staring blankly ahead and sitting slouched in his seat. But as soon as we began our investigation, he perked up a bit, and I saw a familiar glint return to his eyes. He asks surprisingly insightful questions. I daresay I have never had a more competent_ _partner_ _investigative assistant. I believe he thinks I have only brought him here to keep his wits about him, however, because he tried to thank me for "keeping him occupied" at dinner tonight. "We wouldn't want you to get rusty," I replied, because how could I possibly find it in myself to tell him that I'd really brought him along because I was afraid of what he would do, were he alone? I will keep watch over him. I will not let him succumb to weakness in the way I nearly did, once._

 _I have been exposing the problems within the Prosecutor's Office, and slowly rising in authority. My efforts to eliminate corruption are not appreciated by most of the others there. They whisper that I am a hypocrite, or that I am biting the hand that feeds me. Expressed some of these concerns to P. He laughed, to my surprise. "Man, they're dumb," he told me. "You're the only good thing left in our legal system, Edgeworth. The rest of it can rot." I almost wanted to punch him. He sounded just like I had, a scant few years ago, before he'd come along to remind me of what was important. He was the only compass by which I could guide myself to change for the better, and now he too is gone, his own direction lost. I have… nothing. Which is a selfish thing to think, as it is he who is suffering here, not I. But I will fix this. If I accomplish anything in my time as a prosecutor, I hope that it will be making sure that an injustice such as he endured will never happen again._

Looking back on these entries, a dark cloud of gloom hung heavy around him. He remembered the despair he had felt to see Phoenix in such a state, the desperation to do something, _anything,_ to make things better. Miles almost wanted to omit passages from such unhappy times, but it would have been wrong to ignore such a large part of their lives, wouldn't it? And the pain they had gone through, it had been important. In many ways, it had molded them into who they were today. Phoenix's wide-eyed idealism had been tempered into wisdom and experience; Miles had been motivated to work even harder and had risen to his current position. No, he wouldn't avert his eyes from this difficult time in their lives. That would mean refusing to acknowledge all they had done for one another during the Dark Age of the Law.

And then there were entries from even longer ago, ones that he hadn't thought about in years:

 _He is angry with me. I expected he would be. After all he gave me, I still turned my back on him. I see the betrayal, the hurt in his eyes, and I must look away_ _because that shattered expression stabs into me like shards of broken glass_ _. He_ _is right: it probably would have been better if I had stayed dead. But I must confess that I want to prove him wrong. To show him the strength of my new convictions._ _I have no right to ask his forgiveness, but I still selfishly hope he will give it. Someday._

That one was still painful to revisit. He still marveled at Phoenix's ability to give him as many chances as Miles needed. After his return, he'd left again, after all, and a year later Miles had written:

 _Rushed over on a plane after receiving news that P had suffered severe injury after falling from a burning bridge into a rushing river. I was told that his life was in danger. I should have taken it into account who had delivered the news before I lost my head trying to get over here so fast. I burst into the hospital room to see him there, sitting up, his nose running a bit and his eyes red around the edges. He looked most decidedly not-dead. I intended the first thing I said to him to be some sort of greeting, but seeing him there in that hospital bed filled me with anger and sadness and happiness all at once, and what I ended up saying was "Have you completely lost your mind?" He smiled and said he hadn't, but then he gave me his attorney's badge and instructions to defend someone, so I think perhaps he has after all._

And then, a day after that…

 _Have met with the defendant. I only had to look at her once to understand why he was so insistent that I defend her. She seems a soft-spoken and gentle girl, but I have a persistent and inexplicable feeling that I have seen her face somewhere before. After a little prodding, she confessed that she knew him once, and had deceived him. Almost despite myself, I felt sympathy for her at that. For now, I will believe in her story, though I admit there are many things about her that I find suspicious. I do not know what to think of her or her connection with him just yet. I only know that it fills me with unease._

Well, it was quite obvious now that he'd been jealous of Sister Iris from the moment he had seen her, his misgivings based on her resemblance to her twin aside. Reading over all these old entries now, it was frustratingly clear how deep his feelings for Phoenix had always run. Even the first entry he'd written after meeting Phoenix again in the courtroom was transparent, in retrospect.

 _Saw someone that I have not seen since I was a child today. He stood across from me in the courtroom, his deep blue eyes filled with that fire, that unyielding tenacity, so common in rookies. His words were defiant, his gestures filled with conviction. What a fool. I almost felt sorry for him. Such naive earnestness and rampant emotionalism accounts for nothing in this profession. I will show him what I have learned in the time we have been apart. Someone must teach him what it means to oppose the law, and it might as well be me._

He may as well have written _How dare he show his infuriatingly gorgeous face to me and make me question everything,_ because that was basically what Miles was getting from his own words now.

After quite a while, he'd finally chosen all the entries he needed. All that remained now was to write the final entry. He scrawled it onto the page and subsequently tore it out three times, but on the fourth try, he finally had something worth reading. He sat back in his chair and read it over, the ink still fresh on the page.

 _Phoenix,_

 _This is but a small sampling of the many ways you have changed my life. It in no way captures all the ways in which you have saved me, or had an impact (large or small), but for now, I thought it would get my point across._

 _I am giving you this book because I do not want there to be any more secrets between us. Many years in a legal profession have taught me that honesty truly is the best policy, and I have found this to be true in personal relationships as well. With this in mind, I must confess: I have been hiding something from you. I suspect it has caused you a great deal of undue distress, for which I must apologize. I will set your mind at ease now._

 _You have made me a better prosecutor, and even more than that, you have made me a better man. I have grown to rely on you, trust in you, and seek your company, so much so that I feel I would lose my way without you. I wish to do the same for you: reassure you, comfort you (though admittedly this is not my forté), and offer you all the love I possibly can, which is considerably more than I ever thought it could be._

 _So, I ask you: Will you let me stay by your side?_

 _Will you marry me?_

 _Faithfully,  
Miles_

His first instinct was to tear out that attempt too, but even as he grasped the page between his thumb and index finger, he sighed, and let go. There was nothing wrong with this note. What was wrong was his own inability to unreservedly show his emotions. But if he truly wanted to marry Phoenix, he would have to start doing that. It was as Kay had said: soon everyone would know how he felt about Phoenix. His heart both thrilled and quailed at the thought.

This note was satisfactory, he decided over the rush of doubtful and reluctant thoughts that ran through his head.

Now there was but one thing left to do before he took the final step.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Kay.

"Hey, what's up? Haven't heard from you much since you took back the ring," she said when she picked up.

"I apologize for that, but I really had little to report," he explained. "Anyway, I have conceived a new plan, and this time, I will not let anything stand in the way."

"Whoohoo!" she whooped enthusiastically. "What's the date? What's the plan?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, full of conviction. "Our schedules are clear. Trucy will be at school, and there will be no flowers in sight. I will invite him here to my office under the pretense of reviewing a case."

"Aw, that's the excuse you legal people always use," Kay complained. "Can't you think of anything more exciting? Ooh!" she exclaimed, voice suddenly excited. "I know! Tell him you want to make out on your desk!"

" _K-Kay Faraday!"_ he spluttered, mortified. She only laughed in response. Miles pointedly did _not_ tell her that what she had suggested probably _would_ get Phoenix over to his office faster. "I will do nothing of the sort!" he barked instead.

"Relax, I was only joking, silly," she assured him. "So how are you popping the question this time? I assume you're not just taking him to your office and getting down on one knee."

"No, it's slightly more elaborate than that, although really I probably _should_ opt for simplicity at this point," he admitted. "I've written it out. In a journal. I have compiled entries from over the years, and then added one to the end of it with the proposal in it."

"Awww," she cooed, making Miles' face heat up. "I'm glad I'm not the only one to be allowed to read some of those!"

"I never _allowed_ you to read them," he pointed out irritably. "You read them quite against my will."

"And I kept my trap shut about them for over a decade," she reminded him, sounding amused. "I can't believe it took you guys this long to get your act together."

He sighed. "You have a point," he conceded. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Kay, I wanted to thank you for being my confidante these past months," he told her at last, his voice quiet. "You have risen to the occasion admirably, your little slip-up with Pearl notwithstanding."

"N-No need to be so formal, Mr. Edgeworth," she said, with a bit of an uncomfortable chuckle. "I'm glad I could do it… really." She cleared her throat. "So!" Her tone was suddenly brisk and businesslike again. "Tomorrow's the day, huh? Not that I don't appreciate the update, but why tell me? I mean, you don't have to pick up the ring from me anymore."

He was reluctant to divulge the real reason for his call, but he supposed the time for secrecy had passed. As he himself had said, honesty was the best policy. "I wanted to tell you so that if I… try to change my plans," he worded it carefully, "you could provide a… a reminder, I suppose."

"Oh, so you want me to get on your case if you try to chicken out?" she rephrased with her characteristic brutal honesty. Miles cringed, but said nothing. "Sure, no problem! If I don't get news that you're engaged by 8 PM tomorrow, expect a very loud visit to the Edgeworth-Wright residence!"

The prosecutor shuddered at the thought of the Great Thief Yatagarasu breaking in through his windows at home to demand why he hadn't proposed. That was one way to motivate him, he supposed. "I am sure such drastic measures will not be necessary," he hastened to say. "Or at least, I hope they won't."

"Me too!" said Kay brightly. "Especially since I don't know where your key is anymore!"

He rubbed the space between his eyes again. The truth was that they still hadn't moved the key, but if Kay thought they had, he'd be better off not correcting her. "Yes, well, let's keep it that way," he told her.

"All right then," Kay said, resolute. "Do your best, Mr. Edgeworth! I'm rooting for you!"

He smiled. She wouldn't be the only one cheering him on, either: Trucy and Athena and Pearl and even his sister were all in his corner. "Thank you," said Miles, feeling more confident than ever. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You sure will!" she sang ominously, and then hung up.

* * *

Phoenix climbed into the car, wondering what case could possibly be so important that it necessitated him accompanying Miles to the Prosecutor's Building. His boyfriend was being annoyingly cryptic about the whole thing, but he also seemed full of nervous energy, so Phoenix didn't want to push him too much about it.

He looked over at Miles as he fastened his seatbelt. "Can you at least tell me which _year_ this case is from?" So far most of his questions had been answered with " _We'll see when we get there,"_ but it couldn't hurt to try.

"It's… well. Let's just say it is something that has been relevant for the last decade, really," was his only answer, and then he shot him the barest hint of a teasing smile as they began to move. Oh, sure. The only actual answer he gave him, and it was deliberately mystifying.

"Wow," said Phoenix, surprised that Miles was even capable of that mischievous look. "You're actually excited about this, aren't you?"

"That's one word for it," Miles answered, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Why bring me in now, though?" Phoenix asked next. "I mean, you were at your office pretty late yesterday, and when I asked about the case then, you wouldn't tell me a thing. Now it's so important you've gotta bring me there in person?"

Miles glanced at him fleetingly as they approached a traffic light. "Perhaps I just had a feeling you would evoke a breakthrough today."

"Well, I do like being evocative," he quipped with a grin.

Miles heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You're lucky I need to be focused on the road, or else I'd shove you for that one."

"You love it," Phoenix goaded him. They fell quiet, then, so Phoenix took it upon himself to start them off again. "So, I forgot to ask recently: do you still have that certain present from me in your desk drawer?"

Miles' cheeks went pink, as was Phoenix's intention. Ah, there it was, the face that used to be Phoenix's favorite of all Miles' expressions: that slightly-furrowed brow, the mouth set into a taciturn line. Nowadays, he much preferred the faces Miles made when he said something particularly romantic. It was a rare and beautiful thing. "It's not like it belongs anywhere else," Miles muttered in response to the defense attorney's question, flicking his turn signal irritably.

"I mean, you could always bring it home," Phoenix pointed out.

"I'm keeping it in the desk," he said quickly, with an air of finality. He'd never come out and say it, but Phoenix suspected he secretly liked having the unicorn there. Perhaps because it meant there was a reminder of Phoenix always tucked away there? His heart stuttered. That was a cute thought.

"Speaking of your desk," Phoenix started again, not wanting to let the playful atmosphere drop, "you've never used it for its intended purpose."

The prosecutor shot him a confused look. "No, I'm quite certain I've been using it to store my supplies and to do work."

"Yeah, but you've never used it to… _do work..._ " He leaned over closer and stared at him meaningfully, just in case his intention did not come across.

Since they were stopped at another light, Miles took the opportunity to stare at him impassively. "Are you soliciting me for sex? In my workplace? On my desk?"

Phoenix felt abashed, suddenly, retreating to his side of the car. "I-I mean… I don't have to be," he mumbled, slumping a little. He looked out the window to save face, but unfortunately there wasn't much to look at—the sky was cloudy gray. In fact, it looked as though they might get an unseasonable thunderstorm later, if those towering clouds were any indication. Phoenix hoped he hadn't just invited a storm into the car as well.

"I don't understand what the fascination is with that damn desk,"Miles commented, and to Phoenix's relief he sounded more amused than exasperated. The defense attorney looked up in time to catch the slight smile on his partner's face before it flitted away again.

"Hey, the desk is obviously important to you," he fired back, letting a smile return to his face. "You spend a _lot_ of time with that desk. Heck, you probably spend more time with that desk than you do with me. Maybe I just want to show the desk who's boss."

"Wright, don't be ridiculous," Miles said, shaking his head. "We _live together._ Obviously you are the clear winner as far as how much time is spent around you."

"Psh, whatever," said Phoenix, teasing. "You're totally still married to your job." The car jolted forward abruptly, making them both lurch forward and then fall back against their seats. Miles had laid his foot on the accelerator a little too hard. "Y-You okay?" he asked the prosecutor, a bit startled.

His face was slightly flushed again. "J-Just fine," he said, but his voice sounded unsteady.

* * *

By the time they'd reached the Prosecutor's Building, the rain had started. They jogged lightly to the entrance, since neither had brought an umbrella. "I thought you were always prepared, Miles?" Phoenix said. The prosecutor just rolled his eyes as they finally made it through the doors.

"You know," Phoenix said as they stepped into the elevator, "This reminds me of when I took this elevator in November to come yell at you for breaking up with me."

"Oh?" Miles responded, one half of his mouth quirking up. Even just a couple months ago, he would have blustered something about how he couldn't have been breaking up with Phoenix because they hadn't been together, but Miles seemed to have understood now that Phoenix was only being facetious. "I seem to recall something like that. You burst into my office shouting about how much it 'sucked' that we could no longer 'hang out.'"

Phoenix laughed. "Glad you remember too." He marveled again at how fancy even the elevators were here at the Prosecutor's Building, just as he had back then. The walls were polished panels of wood, and the floor was tile. Even the fluorescent lights seemed high-class when they were in a solid line all around the top of the interior. Phoenix leaned against the back wall, watching Miles press the buttons that would send them to the twelfth floor. "It was Athena who convinced me to do it, you know," he continued when Miles joined him at the back of the elevator. "Come talk to you, I mean. She Mood Matrixed me and found out that I was feeling conflicted about, y'know, not being involved in each others' lives. She told me if I had a problem with the distance between us, I had to tell you."

"Hm," Miles said thoughtfully as the elevator doors slowly closed. "It would seem we owe Ms. Cykes a debt of gratitude, in that case."

Phoenix had gotten Athena a fruit basket for her help in that instance, but it probably hadn't been enough. "We owe all of them, really," Phoenix replied, grinning.

"Too right," Miles agreed, returning the smile.

It was true—Pearls with her terribly unskilled stalking, Trucy with her constant attempts to get them to spend time with one another, Maya with her patience and advice (however ill-conceived) over the past decade or so, Athena with her Mood Matrixing, even Kay with her spying and Ema with keeping their secret—they had all contributed. Well, all except Apollo. Apollo, bless him, had made good on his promise to stay out of it.

Phoenix peeked over at Miles surreptitiously, only to find Miles' eyes gazing back at him. Having been caught staring, the prosecutor turned his head away hastily.

"Haven't I said it's okay if you look at me?" said Phoenix, a little bashful. He was kind of still blown away by the fact that Miles found him worth staring at.

"Maybe I was just thinking about how ridiculous that hair of yours is," Miles grumbled.

"Aww, but it looks good on me," Phoenix goaded him. He nudged his shoulder against partner's. "Everything looks good on me, remember?"

Miles sighed. "It astounds me, the amount of pointless things you can remember."

"Hey, it wasn't pointless to me," Phoenix informed him. When the other man didn't respond, he spoke again. "Listen, I know that voicemail embarrasses you, but—"

"I don't regret it," Miles cut him off. "Leaving the voicemail." Phoenix's mouth snapped closed, and the other man went on. "It was intensely humiliating because of its content, but… I don't regret it."

Phoenix looked at him in amazement. "You don't?" he said, a smile spreading slowly across his face.

Miles took his hand, his face flushed but his expression gentle. "No, I don't."

The defense attorney simply beamed at him, wrapping his hand around Miles' in return.

Several things then happened at once.

There was a great crackling, buzzing noise, and their surroundings lurched, both of them stumbling with the force of it. The lights above their heads flickered and died abruptly. And then, silence.

Safety lights blinked to life around the top of the elevator, but it was still quite dim. "Aw, man," Phoenix groaned. "Power outage? Must have been that storm, I guess." He sighed, exasperated. "Well, no worries. We'll be out of—" His words died on his lips when he glanced over and saw how pale Miles had gotten. "M-Miles…?"

"What is this," the prosecutor murmured, his voice faint. He dropped Phoenix's hand. "What the _hell_ is this…?!"

Phoenix suddenly remembered something very important about Miles: he was terrified of elevators. Anyone would be, if they had gone through what Miles had. His fear was quite well disguised, as he rode an elevator every day at work since his office was on the twelfth floor, but he avoided them everywhere else by always taking the stairs. This was the absolute worst place for the power to go out.

"Of course this would happen today, right now," he seethed, gritting his teeth and balling his fists. "Of _course!_ Over and _over…!_ " Miles' voice sounded shaky now, and he began pacing the elevator, agitated.

The defense attorney was a little confused at that statement. As far as Phoenix knew, Miles had only been trapped in an elevator once before. Not that once hadn't been more than enough. "H-Hey, it's okay, Miles," he tried, placating. "This building is so important, the power will probably be back on in no time."

The other man was shaking his head slowly, staring at the ground. "No," he said. He looked dazed. "No. Generator's faulty. Building maintenance budget's tight. No power for a while." He clutched his elbows, like he was hugging himself.

"Wh-What?"

"I said we're _trapped,_ Phoenix!" he snarled, and then closed his mouth, a look of regret clear on his face. "Sorry," he murmured then. He slid down the length of the wall, sitting on the floor and holding his knees. His breaths were starting to come quicker, more shallowly, and his shoulders had started quivering. He stared blankly ahead at nothing, his face pallid.

It was a painful sight, to see him like this. _I have to do something,_ Phoenix thought quickly. _I can't let him just sit there scared to death!_ "I'm… I'm gonna press the emergency button, okay?" he said, and then stepped over to the other side of the elevator to do so. Hopefully it would still work with the power out. He briefly wondered if he could call someone on his phone, but what could anyone do? They were probably mid-floor, which would make escaping difficult, as it would risk one of them falling down the shaft. Unless the power was going to be out for hours, it would be better to wait for it to come back on than to damage the elevator. And if they _were_ going to escape the elevator, it would be prudent to wait for someone who was trained to handle this kind of thing.

His list of options having come to an end, he simply sank to the ground at Miles' side, keeping a safe distance apart just in case Miles didn't want to be touched at the moment. Fear, not for their situation, but for the man next to him, curled in his chest. What in the world was he supposed to say to him? "We'll get out of this, Miles." His voice was soft. "It's not like before."

"No, no, no," the prosecutor breathed, almost more to himself than to Phoenix, hugging his knees tighter. "Trapped. Can't get out now. Feels like… going to die..." His tremors were getting worse, and his mouth had dropped half-open to suck in gasps of air.

"We're not going to die," Phoenix said firmly. "The elevator isn't airtight. There's no one here who can hurt us. We're going to get through this." When the other man only let his eyes fall closed, shuddering and burying his forehead into his knees, Phoenix decided he couldn't take it anymore. He reached out an arm cautiously to wrap around Miles' shoulders.

Thankfully, he did not pull away. Instead, he seemed to relax a little at the contact, letting some of his weight fall against him. But if anything, his quivering only seemed to worsen. Phoenix's heart felt like it was getting squeezed. "Hey, when we get out of here, let's go across the street for lunch, all right? My treat," he said evenly, taking Miles' hand with his free one.

Miles only made a faint whimpering sound in response, but Phoenix thought he saw his head jerk in a nod against his knees, and his hold on Phoenix's hand tightened momentarily. His breaths were coming so quickly that Phoenix was starting to worry he'd pass out if he kept hyperventilating.

"Let's take a deep breath, okay, Miles?" He breathed in deeply to set an example, and after a few unsuccessful choked gasps, Miles followed suit. "Now let it out," Phoenix instructed, demonstrating. The other man's breath shuddered out of him in short bursts of air. "Good," the defense attorney said. "Again, together this time. Ready?" He breathed in again slowly, and the prosecutor sat up a little to do the same. "And then out." They exhaled once more. "Again."

After a few more repetitions, Miles' trembling slowed, and he was breathing more effectively. "You're doing great," Phoenix praised him. "Do, um… Do you want me to keep holding onto you?" he asked then, wondering if he'd been smothering him with unwanted contact.

Miles nodded, so Phoenix kept holding him around the shoulders, but then the other man spoke for the first time in a while: "Other arm."

He blinked, nonplussed. "Huh?"

"Around me. Your other arm."

His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment longer before he realized what Miles was trying to say. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "O-Okay." He let go of his partner's hand, and wrapped his now-free arm around Miles' shoulders, too, holding him against his chest. The prosecutor melted against him, relaxing in his arms as the shaking slowed even more. "Keep breathing," Phoenix reminded him gently. Miles did, timing his breathing to match Phoenix's own.

Eventually, the trembling stopped entirely, and his breathing had returned to normal. "See?" Phoenix whispered, relieved. "You're okay. _We're_ okay."

"Marry me," Miles choked out suddenly, voice quiet.

Phoenix stilled. "Wh… what... did you just say?"

"I want you to marry me, Phoenix Wright," he repeated. He sounded a little unsteady yet, but he also sounded quite sure of what he was saying. "I, I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. I want to be by your side always."

Time stood still. Phoenix's breath froze in his lungs. "Wh… what?"

"Will you?" Miles prompted, shifting out of his arms and grasping both of Phoenix's hands. His eyes were searching. "I've been trying to ask you for months, but… it never seemed to work out," he confessed. "It's… maybe it's just the adrenaline left over from a few minutes ago, but… while we've got the time here… I figured I might as well ask as plainly as possible."

Phoenix stared. Was this yet another cruel dream?

"Oh, I'm an idiot," Miles said, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I forgot the most important part." He dug into his pocket a minute, and then brought out a small red box. He fumbled it open. Phoenix's eyes dropped down. A thin gold ring with a white stone bracketed by two blue ones sat in the middle of the velvet, glinting under the dim safety lights. "This isn't the most romantic of circumstances, especially considering the state I've just been in," the prosecutor continued, "but… Phoenix Wright, will you marry me?"

"Is… is this real?" Phoenix breathed. "Is this… another dream?..." He didn't know if he could take being disappointed like that again.

"It's real," said Miles, a soft smile lighting up his face. "I'm here. I love you so much."

Phoenix's vision blurred at the familiar words. He blinked, and felt wetness on his cheeks. "Holy shit," he said, covering his mouth. "This… this is really happening..." He wiped his eyes, a little embarrassed. "I-I thought you didn't want to get married!"

"That was before I even dared to hope I'd get to be with you," Miles said dismissively. He was starting to look a little frantic again, and a flush was spreading across his face. "Ph-Phoenix, you still haven't answered me..."

"Oh!" Phoenix exclaimed. He laughed a little. "Sorry. Yes. With all of my heart, yes."

"Thank goodness," Miles muttered, shaking his head. "I've already felt like I was going to die once today; I really didn't need to die of shame too." He raised his eyebrows at Phoenix. "Well, ah… aren't you going to let me…?" He gestured to Phoenix's hand, and then to the ring box in his own.

"S-Sorry!" Phoenix blurted, holding out his hand. "I've never, been, um, proposed to before..."

Miles snorted as he slid the ring onto his finger. "That's what you think."

Phoenix stared down at the ring now sitting on his hand. It fit perfectly, because of course it did. Everything about Miles always fit perfectly together with Phoenix. "What do you mean?" he asked in response to Miles' last comment.

Miles sighed as he shuffled back over to sit next to him again, and rested his head back on the elevator wall. "I've tried to propose to you four times in the past three months," he confessed, and then paused. "Well, four and a half, if you count the fact that I was calling you here to my office today to propose."

The defense attorney's jaw dropped. "What?!"

"First there was the concert we had to leave in the middle of," Miles started, counting off each event on his fingers. "Then there was the incident with all the flowers that landed you in the hospital. I attempted to express my feelings through poetry next, but that ended in disaster as well. And then, finally, I… got drunk in the hopes that I'd be as honest with you as I had on Thanksgiving..." He stared down at his hands in his lap. "...But instead I just made a fool of myself," he finished, his tone bitter.

"No you didn't," Phoenix protested, pressing their shoulders together. "I felt really close to you when you opened up about that stuff."

The prosecutor just covered his face with his hand. "I wish I could just say what I want to say without feeling like I need alcohol or a life-threatening situation to motivate me."

"Well, you're getting a lot better at that," Phoenix told him with a smile. "I certainly didn't think I'd be getting proposed to when I woke up this morning."

"And I didn't think I'd be dying with you in an elevator, but life works in mysterious ways," the other man grumbled darkly.

"We're not going to die," Phoenix said sharply.

Miles sighed again. "I know, I know. As long as you're around you'd never let me die," he rolled his head to face Phoenix, "or something like that, right?"

"You're damn right I won't," he responded intently. He grabbed Miles' hand and kissed it. "So help me, neither one of us is going to die until we've had a long, happy life together."

Miles let a smile spread over his face, and leaned over to kiss him. Phoenix stroked his hair as he returned it enthusiastically. The kiss was broken when Phoenix pulled away to smile and laugh, a little breathlessly.

"What's so funny?" Miles asked. He sounded a bit annoyed that the kiss had ended so soon.

"I'm just… I can't believe it… I'm kissing my _fiancé, Miles Edgeworth,_ in an _elevator…!_ " He captured Miles in another kiss, licking into his mouth giddily. Miles slid his hands down to Phoenix's sides as Phoenix rose onto his knees to kneel between his bent legs. The defense attorney shuddered and pressed closer to him, running his hands up and down Miles' chest. Why did the man always wear so many damn layers? Nevertheless, Miles must have approved of the action, because he made a helpless sound into Phoenix's mouth and pressed his fingertips into his hips. Heat was beginning to spread through Phoenix's whole body, sparks erupting behind his eyes and flames flickering low to his core. His kisses became more reckless, more desperate. He wanted to show Miles just how much he'd wanted this kind of closeness with him, how much he reciprocated Miles' feelings.

Unfortunately, Miles drew back after a while. "Ph-Phoenix," he said, and _god,_ his name in that deepened voice made the hair on the back of Phoenix's neck stand up. "This… isn't the time or place."

Phoenix licked under the prosecutor's jaw, knowing that was a sweet spot for him. "Really?" he purred. "'Cuz it seems like the perfect place to me, and we've got plenty of time, it would seem..." He pushed down the jabot to nibble the skin of Miles' neck, and then lightly flicked his tongue over the spot.

Miles groaned and grabbed both of Phoenix's shoulders, probably to push him back, but honestly it felt more like he was pulling Phoenix closer. "Th-This place is not sanitary," he choked. "And our rescuers could be here at any moment."

Phoenix made a disappointed noise, but drew back and rested his hands on the floor on either side of the other man, leaning in to kiss Miles on the mouth again. "I guess you're right," he breathed against his lips. He pressed their foreheads together. "And see? You know our help is coming. You're not as pessimistic as you thought you were."

Miles held Phoenix's face between his hands and kissed him tenderly. "What can I say?" he said when he pulled back. "You're a bad influence."

Phoenix chuckled. "You mean a _good_ influence," he corrected, brushing aside Miles' bangs to press his lips against his forehead.

"Yes, that," Miles sighed in contentment.

Phoenix scooted away to sit next to him again, and scooped up Miles' hand in his own. The metal of the ring felt warm between their hands. "So… what are we going to do for, um… our wedding?" He glanced over at Miles out of the corner of his eye.

"I was planning on letting you figure that out," Miles admitted. "I'm afraid I know next to nothing about weddings."

"Once Trucy sees this ring, she and the rest of Project: Matchmakers will probably do all the planning for us," Phoenix snorted.

Miles chuckled too. "I must confess that in this case, the help would not be unwelcome."

The defense attorney smiled over at him. "I feel the same. Maybe we should ask for some tips."

"Pearls will start a scrapbook again," Miles quipped.

For a moment, they both laughed. When it wound down, the elevator was quiet. Phoenix just kept holding his fiancé's hand, almost enjoying the silence with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, they heard a thud outside the elevator door. Both lawyers snapped to attention. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered back on.

"Sounds like help has arrived," Phoenix said, helping Miles to his feet.

Sure enough, the door finally, _finally_ opened. "Help was here with me the whole time," Miles said quietly, squeezing Phoenix's hand.

They stepped out together, the room once again filled with light.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: A party and a plan, perhaps.

Hope the wait was worth it, everyone ;)


	7. Unity

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone who's read this. I thought I'd lost everything when I lost the entire document after chapter 1, but I've met so many incredible people who have encouraged me, and with their support I rewrote the whole damn thing!

* * *

I hope to see you all on the next thing I write. Thank you again, everyone!

" _I—told—you!"_ Maya sang triumphantly, emphasizing every word with a poke in the ribs.

"Ow, Maya, I need those ribs," Phoenix complained, swatting her hand away with his free one, as his other was holding the spatula he needed to flip the burgers.

It was March, but his best friend had insisted that an engagement party called for outdoor grilling, so here he was in the cold, trying unsuccessfully to make these patties cook. He glared down at them, but they remained stubbornly un-cooked. Well, Phoenix supposed, the watched patty never grilled. Or something like that.

"Come on, Nick, give it up and tell me I was right all along," Maya goaded him, resting her hands on her hips in a pose dripping with swagger. Phoenix rolled his eyes. She'd been like this ever since he'd let it slip that Miles had indeed been planning on proposing to him for a while.

"Look, he could have just asked because _you_ were pressuring us to get married," he grumbled. He didn't really believe that was true, but he desperately wanted to bring her down a peg or two.

"Are you _blaming_ me for your _engagement?_ " she asked incredulously, delivering another fierce poke.

"Again, _ow,_ " he commented, swatting at her once more.

The spirit medium dodged his swipe. "Whoa, careful, Nick," she teased, her eyebrows popping up. "You could hurt a lady swinging around a rock like that." She gestured to the ring on Phoenix's finger.

"Is that so?" said Phoenix, flipping a burger and pretending to look around, holding his free hand over his eyes. "It's a good thing I don't see any ladies around."

She made a mock-offended gasp, and retaliated by poking him even harder.

"Are you _still_ trying to grill those?" came Phoenix's favorite affectionately exasperated voice. The defense attorney and his assaulter both turned at the sound. Miles' arms were crossed, and he was observing them with that wry smile of his. Phoenix was glad he'd gotten his fiance to dress casually today—well, casually for _him,_ anyway. He looked pretty spiffy in his burgundy button-down and the dark-wash jeans Phoenix had made him get.

"Hey, I'm just trying to appease Burger Queen over here," Phoenix said, jabbing a thumb at the woman with the deadly poking fingers.

"Mr. Edgeworth, I'm glad you're here!" Maya exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Maybe you can clear something up for me: Did you only propose to Nick because you felt pressured by him or anyone else?"

His eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. "Of course not. Any pressure was surely my own, as I attempted to ask so many times."

Maya whirled on Phoenix, popping her hands on her hips and wearing an insufferably smug smile. " _Ha!_ See? It was _not_ because of me _or_ you!"

"I should think not," Miles snorted. "I only held off for a while because it seemed that Wright was not comfortable with the idea. After all, he reacted with embarrassment when everyone made the suggestion after New Year's."

"Held off?" Maya echoed. "Wait, you mean you were already thinking about it…?"

Phoenix's jaw dropped. "You were going t… back _then?!_ " he spluttered.

Evidently Miles hadn't meant to reveal that, as he had hastily turned around and was halfway through the sliding glass door. "Don't stay out here too long; it's chilly," he said shortly, and then closed the door. Phoenix caught his ears turning pink before he vanished, however.

Maya turned to him with the most pompous face he'd ever seen her make.

"Ugh," Phoenix groaned. "Shut up."

"I didn't even say anything!"

"That's a miracle right there," he quipped. He looked down at the burgers again. Somehow they were still pink. "All right, enough." He shoved the spatula into the spirit medium's hands and made for the door.

"Hey!" she protested. "Where are you going?"

"It's my party," he called over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go mingle. I'll leave the burgers to you."

"Ooh, okay!" Maya said eagerly. She looked down at the patties, a predator surveying her prey. "Don't worry, little burgers," she cooed. "I'll take goooood care of you..."

Phoenix suspected that by "take care of," she really meant "eat." He hoped she'd leave enough for the rest of them, at least.

He stepped into their living room, made his way through the kitchen, and then came upon Ema and Athena on the way to the family room. The two women were watching something on Widget's holographic screen, though it was impossible to tell what from this angle.

"Hey guys, whatcha watching?" he announced his presence. The girls jumped, and the holoscreen winked out of existence.

"N-Nothing!" Athena blurted, whirling around and looking about as innocent as someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"We were reminiscing about Christmas Eve and watching the video of the mistletoe kiss," Ema explained at once, voice matter-of-fact."

Athena hung her head, looking utterly betrayed. _"Ema…!"_

The forensic scientist smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I didn't see any point in hiding it." She turned to Phoenix now. "Kay recorded it on her phone that day."

The defense attorney smiled at the memory. He could recall quite clearly how flustered, but overwhelmingly happy, he'd been when Miles had kissed his hand. "No worries, but, uh..." He rubbed the back of his head, a little bashful. "D-Do you think you could send me a copy of that video…?"

They stared at him in amazement.

"I-I mean, that was the first time he openly showed affection, in front of everyone!" Phoenix defended himself. His face was flushing. "It was… y'know. Important."

"Heh," Athena laughed, her blue eyes soft with sentiment. "The first time, huh? You wouldn't say that if you could have heard the voice of his heart this whole time."

"Heart-voices don't count," he said, crossing his arms.

"Hehe," was her only response. "All right, Boss. I'll send it to you!"

"Thanks, guys," he replied, offering them a smile before walking further into the family room, where Trucy, Pearl, and Kay were huddled together on the sofa. A familiar scrapbook was open on the little spirit medium's lap, and the magician and thief were leaning over it on either side of her.

"You still have that thing?" he asked, pointing to it as he rounded the front of the couch.

"Oh, hi, Daddy!" chirped Trucy, her eyes flickering up to him and her face lighting up in a smile. "Yes, of course we still have it!"

"And now, it has _real_ love letters in it!" Pearls sighed, pressing her hands to her rosy cheeks.

"Wh-What?" He still didn't remember there being any of those, save for the note Miles had written him to go with his Christmas gift, but he kept that in his bedside table, tucked under some other things so it would be out of sight. Surely they hadn't found that?…

"These are some of my favorite pieces," said his daughter, pointing to a page with several rumpled pieces of paper glued to it.

"I retrieved them a couple weeks ago." Kay looked pleased with herself, lifting her chin and grinning.

Trucy scooted over to allow Phoenix to sit down between herself and Pearl, so he took a seat and accepted the large book when it was pushed onto his lap.

He read the first piece of paper.

 _I can't figure out  
Your ridiculous hair.  
You snore, and yet still  
I'm glad you are there._

Phoenix looked up at his daughter doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. "How is _this_ a love letter?"

"Oh come on, Daddy," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. "We both know that's how Papa expresses affection." She had a point. "Besides, that's not all of them! Keep reading!" She tapped another piece of paper eagerly.

His eyes fell on the second scrap.

 _You are sunshine.  
You are light.  
Sometimes annoying,  
But always Wright. _

"That one's my very favorite," Pearls swooned.

"I threw those away," said a dry voice right behind them. Phoenix's head whipped up to see Miles there, peering over the top of the couch. Fortunately, he looked amused rather than annoyed. "Those weren't even my best ones."

"You think I'm annoying?" Phoenix asked, mournfully.

His fiance gave him a smile that was so soft it made Phoenix's heart melt. He leaned over to give Phoenix a quick kiss. "Sometimes," he confirmed gently.

Phoenix pouted. "You better show me these 'best ones' sometime."

Miles shrugged. "Maybe someday."

"I dunno, Mr. Wright, didn't he already write you something pretty nice in that new journal?" Kay prompted, looking towards Miles with a wide smile.

Phoenix looked from the Great Thief to the prosecutor. "What new journal? I know about _old_ journals, but..."

Kay made a scandalized noise. "You _didn't show him the journal?!_ " she accused Miles.

A blush bloomed in his cheeks. "W-Well, I ended up proposing in the elevator, so..."

The black-haired girl just crossed her arms and shook her head, disapproving. "Miles," said Phoenix, "what's she talking about?..."

"Later," Miles said, placating. "I promise."

He sighed. "Fine… but don't expect me to forget," he added firmly. "You _will_ tell me, right?"

"You can count on it," he assured.

"Speaking of telling people," Trucy interjected, "I'm surprised I haven't heard anything from Apollo. I thought he'd be surprised at the news, but he hasn't contacted us."

Phoenix cringed and looked up at Miles, who wore an identical _oops_ expression. "Uh… that's probably because we haven't told him yet," he admitted, looking back at her with a sheepish smile.

His daughter gasped. "Daddy!" she scolded.

"I burned the burgers!" Maya announced from the door to the balcony. "The good news is, I think a couple of them might still be edible!"

"Fantastic," Phoenix said, unenthused.

Trucy, not one to let herself be distracted, dug into Phoenix's pocket and slapped his phone onto his lap. "Call him!"

" _Now?"_

"Right now!" she commanded, folding her arms. She raised a single eyebrow in a way that was remarkably Miles-like. "Unless you'd rather enjoy a charcoaled hockey puck first…?"

He sighed and acquiesced, because she was the boss and everyone knew it. Putting the phone on speaker so everyone could hear, he waited for a response.

Apollo picked up on the fourth ring. "Mr. Wright?"

A smile rose unbidden on Phoenix's face at the sound of his familiar loud voice. "Hey, Apollo. How are you doing?"

"Great!" he said forcefully, and then, more subdued, "Or, at least, I think I'm doing pretty well for operating on about 4 hours of sleep every night, heheh."

The group exchanged grimaces. "That sounds pretty rough," said Phoenix.

"I'm fine!" he assured them. "These people need me. Things are still changing gradually over here, so I need to always be ready to help!" Phoenix felt a surge of pride at having mentored this brave young man.

"You're a stand-up guy, Apollo," Kay commented.

There was a pause on the other end. "Was that Kay?" he guessed.

"Wow, you're good!" she said, grinning. "But it's not just me."

"Hello, Mr. Apollo," Pearl piped up. "I'm pleased to hear you're doing well."

"Hi Polly!" said Trucy, leaning over the phone.

"Pearl! Trucy!" Apollo's voice was bright. "How are things going?"

"Good, but my act's not the same without my favorite assistant," the magician giggled.

"Is that Apollo?!" Athena called from over by the kitchen entrance. She seized a startled Ema by the arm and barreled over to the couch. "Hi, Apollo!" she said loudly, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"It's on speakerphone, Athena," Ema pointed out.

"Are you getting along with Prosecutor Sahdmadhi?" Athena continued, still speaking at high volume. "Tell him we say hi!"

"Nahyuta's… busy a lot," Apollo laughed. "But yeah, we're getting along. Outside the courtroom, anyway. I'll deliver your greetings. Tell our friends I said hi, too!"

"You bet!" Athena replied. "I'm sure Mr. Starbuck and Junie will be glad to hear you're doing well!"

"Yo, Apollo!" Maya greeted, joining them from the kitchen and resting her elbows on the top of the couch between Miles and Athena. "Tell the Princess I say hey!"

"Maya too? Wow, seems like everyone's here," said Apollo. "I'll tell Princess Rayfa you say hello, if she's not in the middle of being busy with her royal duties or bossing me around. It's a pretty slim window of opportunity."

Maya laughed. "Good enough!"

"Not that I don't love hearing from you all, but what brought on the sudden, er, group call?" asked Phoenix's former protegé then.

"Well, um..." He looked up at Miles, who nodded. "W-We have some pretty big news for you."

"Big news?"

"Yeah, uh…" He cleared his throat, trying to shoo away his bashfulness. "Edgeworth and I are engaged."

" _What?!_ "

"Wright and I are getting married," Miles spoke up at last.

"Oh, wow. I… That's great, you guys…!" He trailed off into silence, followed by a suspicious snuffling noise.

"Polly," said Trucy knowingly, "are you _crying?_ "

" _No!_ " he said defensively, and sniffled again. "It's just really dusty in this office!" They all exchanged disbelieving looks. "Anyway, um… congratulations, you guys. I'm... that's fantastic. I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Apollo," Miles said, his voice warm. Phoenix looked up at him in surprise. Miles nearly always called him "Mr. Justice." His heart warmed at hearing him address Apollo with more familiarity.

"And hey, you guys better keep me in the loop!" the younger attorney insisted. "I am _not_ gonna miss your wedding, all right?!"

"I wouldn't want to have it without you," Phoenix admitted. "Don't worry. We'll keep in touch."

"I could probably deliver messages, too, since I'll more than likely be seeing you again soon, if that infuriating brother of yours drags me off again," Ema pointed out, sighing.

"You have my deepest sympathies," Apollo told her sincerely. "Anyway… I'm so happy you guys shared the news, but I should probably get back to work. I have 15 more clients to meet with this afternoon."

Everyone looked at each other in horror again.

"Hang in there, Apollo," Kay said solemnly.

"I'll be praying for you," Pearl added.

"Stay safe, Polly! We love you!" sang Trucy.

"S-Same," he chuckled awkwardly. "All right then. Justice, out!" Then there was a click.

"I'm surprised he didn't say something like, ' _Gotta go; Justice waits for no one and no one waits for Justice!'_ " Phoenix said fondly, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

"Ha, yeah, that kid always has to add in some kind of joke with his name," said the spirit medium who was only a few years older than Apollo.

"Hey, he's single-handedly reshaping an entire legal system," Phoenix defended him. "On four hours of sleep a night. Maybe the puns don't come as easily."

"Or he's spent too long away from the master of Dad Jokes," Trucy giggled, nudging him.

"I will take that as the compliment it was no doubt intended to be," he responded graciously.

"Anyway, I don't know about you guys, but I'm starved," Maya said briskly. She glanced between the prosecutor next to her and the defense attorney on the couch. "What do you think, lovebirds? Is it time to eat?"

"Only if you do not call us that again," Miles replied, frowning.

She only grinned. "I make no promises." Then she turned and led the way to the kitchen.

"Five bucks says none of the hamburgers are fit for human consumption," said Kay, hopping up from the couch.

"At least there's jell-o salad," Trucy said with a shrug, getting up as well and helping Pearl to her feet.

"That's my favorite kind of salad," Kay added as she followed the other two. Athena and Ema trailed after, as well.

Phoenix rose from the couch and rounded it to stand with his fiance. He looked him over, and since they were alone in the room, he didn't bother to hide it. "You really do look amazing in jeans," he commented.

"Hmph," he replied, adjusting his glasses and looking bashful. "I-I could say the same of you."

The defense attorney grinned, and grabbed Miles' hand to kiss it. The ring they'd picked out together looked good on his finger, white gold and garnet, but soon it would be sitting on Phoenix's finger instead. They had decided to exchange the rings at the wedding—it was one of the few things they'd actually planned in advance.

Miles' mouth quirked up on one side as Phoenix released his hand, and the prosecutor pressed a quick kiss to his mouth instead. "Let's not keep them waiting," he said quietly.

"Aww," Phoenix groaned in mock-disappointment, and together they made their way to the kitchen.

"All right, everyone, I think we all should say something to the happy couple," Maya said as they all seated themselves.

"But this isn't the reception," Ema pointed out, immediately reaching for a bag of chips at the center of the table. "Isn't that when people usually make toasts?"

"It doesn't have to be anything formal," said Maya dismissively. "We can totally eat while we're doing this." She looked down at her younger cousin, who was seated next to her. "Pearly, why don't you go first?"

"M-Me?" she squeaked, pointing to herself. "Why?"

"Well, um..." She thought a moment, tapping her chin. "Because..." Her eyes widened as she came up with something. "Because you named Project: Matchmakers!" she decided with a nod.

"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything," said Trucy, crossing her arms and sounding remarkably like her half-brother. Perhaps she was standing in for him in his absence.

"C'mon, Pearly, give it a try," Maya goaded her.

Pearls still looked uncomfortable, but she nodded. "Well… I-I used to think M-Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick were perfect for each other..." she began, looking around at them all. Phoenix cringed, embarrassed. A glance at Maya confirmed that she was mortified as well, having sunk her face into her hand. It kind of served her right for suggesting this, Phoenix thought. "But, when I got older," Pearls continued, and here her gaze drifted to Phoenix and Miles as a smile spread across her face. "I saw what true love _really_ looked like. Seeing you two support each other and care for one another and make one another stronger with your bond… I… I think we are all very blessed to have seen that firsthand." She bowed her head to them slightly.

Phoenix felt a little warm, but he had to admit to himself that the words had been sweet. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, Kay had sprung out of her seat and put both hands on the table. "I'm next!" she declared. She shot Miles a mischievous look. "This guy right here… I could say a lot of stuff about how he used to go _on_ and _on_ about some mysterious _friend_ of his that inspired him and saved him..." Phoenix glanced at Miles nervously, and verified that indeed he was wearing a face of mild panic. When the defense attorney returned his attention to Kay, her expression had become more serious. "I'm not going to do that, though," said the Great Thief. "What I'll say is: when I first met Mr. Edgeworth, I thought he was… kind of emotionless." She grinned at Phoenix now. "But when I learned about you, Mr. Wright, I saw I'd been wrong: Mr. Edgeworth has tons of emotions. He just needs a very special person to get him to show them." She winked. "I'm so glad you were that very special person, Mr. Wright."

"Th-Thanks," Phoenix stammered as Kay sat down.

Ema, who was seated next to the Great Thief, did not notice that everyone had turned their attention to her until Kay nudged her shoulder. She looked up from crunching loudly on some Chex Mix, raising her eyebrows in realization. "Mah furn?" she mumbled through a mouthful, looking around at them all. She chewed hastily and swallowed, allowing her to speak normally. "Ahem," she said. "Well. I… was probably the last person to figure out… things..." she started, staring at the table rather than at the two lawyers. "But once it became obvious, I couldn't imagine how I didn't see how explosive your chemistry was." She smiled sheepishly. "Science pun only semi-intended. You've both taught me so much as I've grown up. I…" She flushed a little and looked down again. "I feel very lucky to have learned from you, not just as a scientist, but… as your friend." And then she was blushing a little deeper and grabbing some more Chex Mix to shove into her mouth. Evidently, that was her way of indicating that she was finished speaking.

"Me next!" cried Athena, springing from her seat. "I haven't known you two as long as the others have, but… I got to see you work together even when we met for the first time." She and Widget both lit up. "You've always been such a great team. And while your hearts have always been been singing the same song..." She clasped her hands together and smiled even wider. "...I've never heard two hearts more in absolute harmony than yours are now!"

Phoenix wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but it was nice to hear nevertheless. He offered a smile to the younger lawyer as she retook her seat. The next person at the table was Trucy, who was sitting next to Phoenix himself. She stood, locking her eyes on him. "From the moment I met him, Daddy's always been so focused on helping other people and making them happy—his clients, his friends..." Trucy bit her lip a little. "...And especially me. He never seemed to want to worry about himself." Here, her gaze shifted over to Miles. "But there was always someone around to look out for him, even when I couldn't. Someone who cared about him, and who he cared about in return. When I saw how Papa treated my Daddy, and how much Daddy cared about him right back… I knew they could get through anything together." She smiled brightly at Phoenix again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm so glad you're finally getting to find your own happiness, too, Daddy."

Phoenix wrapped his hand around his daughter's as she sat back down. "Thank you, Trucy," he said, voice a little choked. His eyes felt moist.

"I love you," she whispered, her eyes sparkling. "Both of you."

Phoenix squeezed her hand.

"Well, that was pretty sappy," said Maya, but her voice was shaking a little, and her eyes looked like they were about to spill over, too. She wiped at them furiously. "S-So, I guess it's me last, huh?" She rose from her chair, and then thought a moment, because apparently despite starting this whole thing she hadn't thought of her informal toast beforehand. "I have known these two for a long, _long_ time," she began at last. "Man, you should have seen the way Nick looked at Edgeworth even back then." She laid a hand over her heart, and then dramatically pantomimed a swoon. Phoenix glared at her, but she only giggled. "Heehee. Relax, Nick, I'm just kidding. You were much more subtle about it." Phoenix's glare intensified. "All right, all right, stop scowling at me," she said, waving her hand around. "Look: I've always known these two were totally gaga-stupid in love with each other—"

"Hey!" Phoenix finally protested, at the same time as Miles spit out a mortified "Beg pardon?!"

"—You know I'm right, guys; don't play dumb—but I'm so glad they've finally figured things out." She smiled at Phoenix now, a smile full of honest affection that softened his heart. "I can't think of any two people who deserve a long, happy life together more than you two," she finished sincerely. Her piece said, she flopped back into her chair, but a moment later she had sprung back up again. "Also I was right," she added hastily with a smug grin, and then sat down again. "Now let's eat already!"

"You're the one who started this," Trucy pointed out, and again Phoenix was reminded of Apollo.

"Yeah I know," the spirit medium said, waving off the words. She picked up her blackened hamburger, which she'd slapped onto a bun, and eyed it, obviously contemplating whether it was actually edible or not. "By the way, thanks in advance for asking me to be your best man, Nick. I humbly accept."

"Whoa, we didn't decide that!" he protested. "What about Apollo, Maya?"

His old friend made a sound of outrage as she dropped her burger back onto her paper plate. "I have known you _way_ longer than Apollo!"

Phoenix couldn't believe she was still stuck on this. "Yeah, but how would he feel to be passed over as best man despite actually being a man?"

"I can totally be a man!" she refuted, and spread her arms to gesture to herself. "Spirit medium, remember?!"

He crossed his arms at her firmly. "No channeling at my wedding!"

"Not even if I channel my sister?" She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Well, he had to pause at that. It _would_ be nice to have Mia there, even if just briefly, but… "No channeling during my wedding _ceremony,_ " he revised. If she wanted to channel Mia at the reception, well… he guessed he wouldn't mind that.

"Aw, Nick!" she pouted. "Why not?!"

"Because I want you there as yourself, Maya!" he said, exasperated. "How could I not have you at my wedding?"

Her face softened into smile that was just a little sappy. "Aww..." She picked up her hamburger again, apparently satisfied with that answer. "I mean, I still say I should be the best man, but..."

Defeated, Phoenix turned to his fiance. "Would it bother you if my best man is a woman?"

Miles shrugged and offered a half-smile. "I was thinking of asking Franziska to be my best man, so I haven't really any room to complain here."

"Yesssss!" Maya cheered, pumping her fist. "Best Ladies for the win!"

"Won't Mr. Laurice be sad at not being considered for Best Man?" Pearls piped up, her eyebrows drawn together.

Phoenix exchanged a look with the man next to him. As expected, Miles was wearing the exact same _oh crap_ expression. "I completely forgot to tell him," Phoenix admitted.

"I didn't tell him either..."

"We have to at least invite him, don't we?" asked the defense attorney in something of a worried tone.

"I suppose," Miles conceded with a resigned sigh.

"Just keep him away from the rings and stuff," Maya suggested, finally taking a bite of her hamburger. "Oh, bleh, gahd… I meffed up," she said then, her eyes bugged out and her cheeks bulging. Evidently the hamburger was not, in fact, edible.

"He does seem to spread disaster wherever he goes," Miles agreed, politely ignoring the spirit medium spitting out her half-chewed food into a napkin, because he was a gentleman.

Phoenix could have pointed out that his other option for best (wo)man had been accused of murder at least five times, but he was a gentleman too, so he said nothing and pointedly did not eat any hamburgers.

"I think we're all skirting around the most important question here," said Athena suddenly.

Miles lifted an eyebrow as he sipped his punch, but when he put the cup down again he asked, "And what might that question be?"

"When's the big day?" she burst out. Clearly this question had been at the forefront of her mind all day.

Phoenix and Miles exchanged another unsure glance. That was not something they had decided on, but it would look kind of silly to admit that, wouldn't it? He attempted to broadcast his thoughts with his eyes, and Miles gave a minute nod. Phoenix felt a surge of pride and warmth. Miles was so good at communicating without words. Phoenix nodded back, and they turned to the table again.

"In the fall," said Phoenix, at the same time Miles said "Next month."

A silence followed.

"Um..." Pearl broke the quiet, "N-Next month is April…?" Her voice was timid and her face was concerned, as if she was afraid Phoenix had forgotten his months.

"Yes, I know, Pearls," he sighed. "The truth is… we haven't exactly figured out a date yet." _And he's nuts if he thinks we can plan an entire wedding in a month!_ he added to himself.

"Well, surely next month is a fine tentative date," Miles said. "It shouldn't be too hard to arrange."

Everyone gave him incredulous looks. "Are you kidding me, Miles?!" Phoenix said after a period of silence. "There's an entire profession based on planning weddings!"

He looked genuinely surprised. "Is… Is it really so complex?"

"Uh, _yeah!_ " Kay said loudly. "You gotta think about where the wedding will be, for example!"

"And the cake you'll order!" Maya put in, overriding the taste of the burned hamburger with jello salad. She pointed at them with her spoon. "Ooh, and your gift registry! Free stuff, you guys!"

"Don't forget music!" Athena added. "Personally, I think live music is always best."

"And flowers!" Pearls spoke up, and then sighed dreamily.

"We should think about entertainment at the reception, too," said Trucy helpfully, her eyes sparkling as if she already had a few ideas of her own.

"Not to mention all the work that goes into managing the guest list," Ema remarked. "And isn't there supposed to be some sort of vow-exchanging?"

Miles looked around at them all in bewilderment. "I… I stand corrected..."

"Well, it's a good thing we already know a florist," Maya pointed out. She must have been talking about the Hamptons, Phoenix realized.

"Plus a certain violinist who could help with music!" Trucy said.

"Oh, great idea!" Athena exclaimed, clapping her hands together as Widget flashed green. "Ariadne could definitely get us some great live music!"

Miles cleared his throat and spoke up, though he looked a bit awkward. "I… may know some people who can handle the cake and catering..."

Kay lit up and pointed at him. "You're talking about Mr. Master and Ms. Hall, right? That'd be perfect! I'm sure they'd love to hear from us! I can track 'em down!" Phoenix had no idea who they were talking about, but if they were friends of Miles and Kay, they were probably all right.

"Ooh, maybe Lotta could be the wedding photographer!" Maya snickered.

"Are you kidding?" Phoenix said. "She'd charge an arm and a leg!"

"So?!" Maya volleyed back, leaning forward over the table. If she wasn't careful, she'd get her sleeves in the dip. "Capturing your special day would be worth paying a little extra!"

Phoenix just sighed, but Kay was looking intrigued as she helped herself to some cheese curls. "You guys know Lotta?"

"Oh yeah, we go way back," said Maya. "Actually, she's part of the reason Nick and Edgeworth even reunited as friends."

"Yes, her damning photographs were ever so helpful," Miles said flatly. Phoenix cringed at the memory. He wasn't wrong, but at least Lotta had done her best to make up for her mistake later.

"As long as we're discussing guests… I think we should invite Mr. Powers!" Pearl's eyes were shining. "He's so nice!"

"Yes, I concur. We will invite Mr. Powers," Miles said immediately, because of course he would. Miles was a ginormous Steel Samurai fanboy, after all, Phoenix thought with only the slightest twinge of jealousy. He would probably love to have the Steel Samurai himself at his wedding. That aside, Phoenix privately agreed that they should invite Powers. After all, he had been present for the first time Miles and he had worked as a team.

Maya was still trying to write their guest list for them. "Let's see, who else..." she murmured, tapping her chin. "Well we've got to invite Detective Gumshoe and Maggey, of course, and Regina Berry—"

"You know _her,_ too?!" Kay burst out.

"Sure do!" Maya replied, her face lighting up.

"She is so cute!" they both said, and then busted out laughing.

"I'm glad you guys are having fun, but there is no way I am having a literal circus at my wedding," Phoenix deadpanned. "Moe would make the worst toast ever at the reception and drive away all our guests, and that puppet guy… what was his name? Ben? He'd probably creep everyone out with that stupid dummy of his, and Regina would probably bring that tiger as her plus-one..."

"I think that sounds like a blast!" Athena said, unhelpfully. Phoenix frowned at her.

"I also think we should invite Sister Bikini!" Pearl piped up again.

"And the DeLites!" Maya insisted. "Oh, and Ms. Andrews, of course!"

"And Mr. Eldoon," Trucy rattled off, "and Vera, and Little Plum—"

"Trucy!" Phoenix protested, alarmed. "We're not inviting the Yakuza! No gangsters!"

"Oh, Daddy," she said, looking at him with an expression that suggested Phoenix had disappointed her. "You know they just run a bakery now."

"We can't invite Ms. Hall and Mr. Master without inviting Mr. Shields," said Kay, "and we can't invite Mr. Shields without inviting Detective Badd… oh, and Prosecutor Debeste!" Who _were_ all these people?!

"Speaking of prosecutors… I suppose it would only be fair to invite the fop, given how long he's known you two," Ema joined in as she helped herself to some jello, though she didn't sound as resentful about it as she probably intended to sound.

"We can't leave out Simon!" Athena yelled. "I mean, he helped you guys end the Dark Age of the Law!"

"Ooh, I just had an idea!" exclaimed Maya. "Ahlbi can be the flower girl!"

"He's a 10-year-old _boy,_ Maya," Phoenix pointed out.

"Oh, fine, ring-bearer then."

"Armie can be the flower girl!" Trucy decided for them.

"Guys, _guys!"_ Phoenix finally burst out. "Please! Just…" He exchanged a glance with Miles, who looked like he was struggling to take in the flurry of ideas being tossed about, and then looked around the table again. "We'll work on a guest list this weekend, okay?!" he declared.

"Fiiiiine," Maya sighed. "Get it to me at 9 o'clock sharp Monday morning, mister!"

"You're not my teacher," Phoenix immediately fired back petulantly, and then opted to attempt a more mature tone. "I mean… everyone, just… go back to talking among yourselves, all right? Miles and I will figure this out, so… calm down, will you?"

Kay shrugged, and turned to Maya. "So Maya, do you know Lotta's apprentice, too?"

"Her what?"

Phoenix let out a sigh and turned his head to face Miles now as the rest of the table began their own conversations. "We were totally right. They _are_ going to take care of the planning for us, I guess."

"I hadn't realized so many people would be considered for our guest list," Miles admitted quietly. "It would seem we have… quite a few more friends than I'd realized."

Phoenix smiled at him, and took his hand, right there on top of the table. "Yes. We do." Miles smiled back, and wrapped his hand around Phoenix's. Pearl caught a glimpse of this and giggled and blushed, but Phoenix didn't even mind anymore. He'd waited far too long—most of his life, really—to be able to hold Miles Edgeworth's hand out in the open.

Phoenix thought, as he kept holding his fiance's hand, that he couldn't wait for the rest of his life to begin.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next time: A Bachelor Party for two.

Thanks again everybody! ^ ^


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